


Let 'Em Topple

by handlebarstiedtothestars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, It Happened One Night (1934)
Genre: Attempted Historical Accuracy, Biblical setting, Canon Compliant, Crowley's Name is Crawly | Crawley (Good Omens), Enemies to Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Friends with Feelings, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Spouses, M/M, Male Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Alternating, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), a little swearing (not much), attempted biblical accuracy, brief mention of King Herod's Massacre of the Innocents, screwball comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23275330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlebarstiedtothestars/pseuds/handlebarstiedtothestars
Summary: The angel closed his eyes and began to talk. “I was reprimanded. Too many ‘big’ miracles. Interfering with the Plan.”“Oh, they must be extra jumpy because of Christ right?”“Quite,” Aziraphale mumbled, “They won’t want anything to, uh… go wrong…at this early stage.”“Naturally.” Crawly turned to watch the angel, who met his gaze sideways. Crawly tipped his head, pouting a little. “So… you want to get out of the way for a little while?”“Yes. But I wouldn’t ask one of the Fallen for help,” the angel jibed.Set in the year 1 A.D., just after the birth of Christ, Aziraphale finds himself in Gabriel’s bad books, giving Crawly an opportunity to get out of Beelzebub’s line of fire. As angel and demon journey through the countryside together trying to avoid their respective bosses, they both begin to see a different side to one another, developing feelings that make them question everything.Written for the GO RomCom event, based on the classic movieIt Happened One Night.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 85
Collections: Good Omens Rom Com Event





	1. Your Chariot Awaiteth Withouteth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all and thanks for dropping by! This is going to be verrrrrry slow updating because my IRL life has done a 180 on me and I'm good but I've got a _lot_ going on, so bear with, I will get this done! Eventually!! Subscribe if you want to be notified when I post new chapters over the coming months :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to MickyRC for betaing chapter 1 for me, and to all my usual cheerleaders (Lurlur and WyvernQuill I'm looking at you) and new friends for convincing me to carry on ❤️
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Movie poster below based on [this original design](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8e/eb/5e/8eeb5e1aad1b04ebbf602fdfbf1dc8aa.jpg)

  


“I thought I told you not to bring any food in here!” Aziraphale cried, slamming the door on the innkeeper’s servants. 

Gabriel had vanished with a smile seconds ago, and it had been all Aziraphale could do to hold himself together through the latest set of Heavenly instructions. Almost three millennia of heartbreak and anguish were beginning to take their toll. He had watched helplessly as the floodwaters closed over the plains around the Ark. He had stood by as Joseph was beaten almost to death by his brothers, watching over him throughout his subsequent trials. The angel had acted as a secret guardian to the Exodus from Egypt, moving amongst the people as they travelled and helping where he could in little ways; or, when they reached the sea and needed to cross, in big ways. He had been reprimanded for that later, told to leave matters alone and trust in God’s will.

He was struggling to trust in it now. “Killing _newborns_ ,” he hissed to himself, upending a tray, the pottery clattering to the floor. “The King is planning to kill infants tonight and I can’t even interfere? Are they trying to get a rise out of me?? It’s not exactly a subtle strategy. Well, they won’t do it. They can’t do it. They may be stubborn, but I can be just as stubborn. I _will_ help, I’ve got to, I’ll - ” He stopped, hands braced on the window, wings fluttering in the ether ready to burst forth.

“But then… Gabriel said…”

_While you’ve been staying here, I took the liberty of looking into your miracling records and privileges. I have you under surveillance and if you so much as will a pin into existence I’ll know about it. So, no playing the hero this time, huh buddy? This is the big one, Aziraphale. Leave it up to the Divine Plan._

Aziraphale growled and banged on the window frame. “Oh, what is my purpose here if not to protect the innocent? Oh, I could shout, I could _scream!_ ”

“Scream as much as you like,” came Gabriel’s smooth voice from behind him, and Aziraphale leapt back from the window, straightening his robes and clasping his shaking hands in front of him as he turned to face his violet-eyed supervisor. 

“Shout it from the rooftops – _Christ is Born!”_ Gabriel grinned, “I should have known you’d be on top of spreading the Good News already. Forgot to mention – your last report is overdue. I’ll be back for it at sundown, yes? Great.”

“Quite, I’ll get it done in a - ” Gabriel popped out of mortal existence just as Aziraphale said, “…jiffy…” 

He turned back to the window of his little room and looked out across the town square. A number of merchant caravans had arrived that morning and were now packing up to leave. 

So, there would be no miracles unnoticed now, no peace from their orders, and likely an increase in the pushback against Evil and Sin now that Christ was here on Earth. What atrocities did they have planned in His name? Aziraphale would have to let the Divine Plan take its course tonight just as he had done for millennia, just as he would have to do for millennia to come, with a look of solemn piety etched eternally into his face, a mask to hide the tears; though he was sure he was the only one who would cry. He would have to obey orders and do as he was told. _They’re always telling me what to do,_ he thought, looking out across the town that didn’t know what was coming. _They’re always dictating who lives and who dies. I don’t think I can bear to watch any more of it._ He grabbed a small coin purse, threw it in a bag and climbed out of the window with barely a second thought.

In the market square a group of identical manservants pushed through the crowd.

“MAKE WAY FOR THE KING!”

“MAKE WAY!!”

Crawly had spent the morning hastily following and shushing them, repeatedly explaining that he was trying to lay low and what the _Heaven_ were they doing making so much racket and giving the game away. Beelzebub had insisted he had to have ‘assistance’ on this temptation, but no one was free, or could be bothered, so they had sent a handful of the disposable clones.

When his assigned target had spotted the rowdy group and vanished into the crowd, Crawly finally lost the last of his temper.

Grabbing a large merchant from behind his stall, Crawly put him under with a wave of his hand and dialled in. 

“Hello,” the man’s jaw moved with an unnatural crossbite, “Dagon speaking.”

“Put Beelzebub on _now._ ”

There was a pause, and a soft gargling noise as he waited. The disposables were gathered by the camels, whispering amongst themselves as they tried to listen in.

There was a click and the man straightened up. “Yezzzz?”

“Beelzebub, how’s it going? Look – this ‘assistance’ you offered – bit of bother with it. Trouble is it’s, uh, yeah it’s not really working out.”

“Not working out _how?_ ” Beelzebub droned.

“Well for starters they’ve just scared away the target – but more than that, I just don’t need the help. Really, you know I work best on my own.”

“Your reportzzzz have been… _lacking_ of late.”

“Lacking?! What’s lacking?!”

“The last one you sent was in Greek.”

“I was _in Greece!_ ”

“It cozzzt the department a fortune to tranzzlate. We will have no choice but to move you to filing if you don’t up your numberzzz, Crawly.”

“Oh, in a rotting pig’s eye, you will!” Crawly cried, “You’re not on the ground up here, you wouldn’t know a perfect temptation if it socked you in the jaw.”

“Don’t overzzzztep your rank, Crawly,” Beelzebub’s voice buzzed through the portly man’s teeth.

“Um, Lord Beelzebub?” Dagon’s clipped voice took over for a moment, “You know he reversed the charge on that call?”

“WHAT??” raged Beelzebub, and a voice like an angry swarm of bees reverberated around Crawly’s head. “Lizzten here, Crawly, you zzztay far away from thizz office until you’ve got something worth my time!”

The man’s eyes rolled around in his head and he groaned, a tell-tale sign the connection had been severed. Crawly adjusted his neck, his fangs digging into the inside of his lip. The clone demons behind muttered, wondering what was going on. He only had a few minutes before the man came back around. Enough time to put on a little show.

“Listen here, you jumped up housefly,” he began, setting his shoulders into a pose of cocky confidence, glancing back to ensure the clones were watching. “I’ve got the best record in your whole stinking department and you’d be making a huge mistake to move me.”

The man gargled and began to tilt to the side. Crawly grabbed him, trying to make holding him up look like an assault. “Don’t bother with an apology now, I wouldn’t come back down there to help you if you begged me on your hands and knees!”

The man collapsed, gasping onto the ground with perfect dramatic timing.

“And I hope that’ll be a lesson to you!” Crawly snapped, straightening his robes. 

The demons behind whispered and nudged each other. _Shit,_ Crawly thought to himself. He didn’t want to do anything _too_ catastrophic to get back in Hell’s bad books – he had to live up here after all, because there was no way he would willingly spend more than an hour back in Hell’s dank corridors. But most of the things he’d been erroneously commended for _were_ horrendously awe-inspiring. How was he going to come up with something big enough to keep him in, but not _so_ big he landed himself in a pile of trouble here on Earth? He didn’t want to live through another war. He turned back to the clones, who all leapt back.

“Get out of my sight,” he snarled, pushing through them and storming down the street to the nearest public house.

Uriel and Michael watched the square from a darkening archway as dusk set in. Figures in dusty, drab-coloured robes darted about, many loading stock onto wagons and dismantling stalls.

“We’re wasting our time here,” Uriel sighed, taking another look around the assembly.

“I told Gabriel this was a ridiculous idea,” Michael tutted, “But he said the miracle record had been clear since this afternoon, so he must have gone on foot or by camel.”

“Can you imagine that comfort-obsessed dotard riding on a camel??”

They both snickered. They waited until it was too dark to clearly make out the figures moving about the square before giving up and ascending back up to give their report.

As night drew in the last merchant’s caravan was all loaded up, but one seat at the back of a wagon was only half covered with unsold breads. Crawly had asked for the merchant to move them, but the man walked away as the demon spoke. Crawly swayed as he spun back around to glower at the loaves. If they had any sense, they would have burst into Hellish flames, or moved of their own accord. He considered his options for a slow second. He had already paid the merchant a fare to travel and wanted the seat he had paid for. So, staggering a little, he stepped forward and threw the loaves to the other passengers.

“Hey!!!” the merchant came running back, as the passengers began digging into the free food, “What’s the big idea??”

“Well I never did like the idea of sssitting on bread,” Crawly slurred, “Did it once and all the goatsss followed me around town all day, eating it off the sssseat of my robesss. No word of a lie, it happened!”

“A wise guy, huh? What you need is a good beating!” the merchant held up his fists lamely, clearly not a fighting man.

“Eh, I can get one of those back home anytime I want,” Crawly pushed the man’s hands back down and waved him away.

“Oh yeah?” 

“Lissten, you couldn’t have ssssold those breads in the next town anyway. They’re ssstale as anything, aren’t they folks? You’d be a crook of the highesst order if you did.”

“Oh yeah??” the merchant squared up to Crawly, trying to intimidate him.

“If that’s all you can sssay we’re not going to ressssolve this anytime sssoon.”

“Oh yeah???” He was almost on the tips of his toes.

Crawly rolled his eyes. “You got me – _yeah!_ ”

The passengers laughed, and the merchant flushed, swearing at Crawly and waving him away. Crawly turned back to the wagon to take his now free seat – only to find an almost familiar face sitting right in the middle of it. The long white-blonde hair and the feminine figure were new, as were the uncharacteristically grey robes, but there was no mistaking that upturned nose and those big water-coloured eyes.

“Aziraphale??”

The angel visibly flinched and looked up. “Oh.”

“Travelling out of town too, are we?” the demon drawled, stepping closer.

“Yes, well, got some – some new business to attend to.”

“Uh huh,” the demon watched the nervous twitches in the angel’s expression, the whiteknuckle grip on his bag of belongings. He continued, “Listen, angel, great to see you and all but I put up quite a fight for that seat.”

“It’s first come first served,” Aziraphale snapped.

“Hngk. Driver?” Crawly addressed the merchant again, who looked back from the driver’s seat with disdain. “Driver, these seats accommodate two people, don’t they?”

“Maybe they do. Maybe they don’t.”

“Thanks.” With that, Crawly unceremoniously shifted Aziraphale over and squashed himself into the space next to him. “‘Maybe they do’.”

Aziraphale huffed and turned his face away, jaw clenched tight as he watched the town square vanish into the darkness.

The caravan stopped during the night in a small village to water the camels. Most of the passengers got up to stretch their legs, and Aziraphale found himself alone on the seat. He was fidgety, nervous, trying not to think about the town they had left, or of what Gabriel must have thought upon finding him gone. Jumping up, he stood by the wagon, anxiously glancing around, trying to still his trembling hands by clasping them together. There was no sign of anything untoward, no ethereal or occult presences he could sense besides the demonic one he had been sharing a seat with. He caught sight of Crawly, those reptilian eyes staring at him over the crowd. Aziraphale shivered slightly under the intensity of that gaze. Suddenly the demon began to run towards him. Aziraphale flinched, trying to back further behind the wagon. He went to snap his fingers to miracle up something to protect himself. No. No, then Gabriel would know where he was. Oh, what a ridiculous situation to land himself in – be killed by a demon or severely reprimanded by an Archangel. By the time he had finished fretting over all of this, Crawly had run straight past him, out into the darkness beyond the village. Aziraphale shuddered all over and settled himself back in his position against the wagon, glad that Crawly was gone.

There was a rough coughing a few minutes later and the pounding of feet running up behind him.

“I couldn’t catch him!” Crawly rasped, coughing harshly as he tried to get his breath back, “If I ever see that blasted thief again I’ll personally deliver him straight to Lucifer himself.”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re ranting about,” Aziraphale scoffed, turning his nose up, “And moreover, I don’t care.”

Crawly froze, staring at Aziraphale. “I’m sure you’d be interested to know that your bag is gone.”

“OH HEAVENS!!” Aziraphale cried, looking at the empty space on the seat where his bag had been, “Oh _no,_ what am I going to do now?? That had all my food, most of my money for the road, my - ”

“Can’t you just miracle up more?”

“No, no I can’t I’ll be - ” Aziraphale swallowed hard, pressing his traitorous tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Yes. Yes I’ll, um… I’ll do that in the morning. Too many, uh, people around now.”

Crawly watched him, one eyebrow quirked, for a long moment before shrugging and resuming his seat on the wagon. He was fast asleep in seconds, snoring softly. Aziraphale’s lip wobbled, and he looked out into the darkness that had claimed his belongings. There had been cake in that bag. It was going to be a long night.

  
  



	2. I had you pegged right from the jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly sees a way to use Aziraphale's unfortunate circumstances to his advantage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lurlur for betaing this chapter! <3

Aziraphale awoke from a pleasant dream, warm soft linen clutched in his hand. He snuggled into the fabric, grumbling a little as he fought to stay asleep. Blinking his eyes, he found soft auburn curls clouding his vision.

“Oh!” he cried, blushing as he sat up and edged as far away from the smirking demon as the bench would allow. “How foolish of me.”

“Sleep well?”

“You should have woken me up,” Aziraphale retorted.

“Eh, you look kind of sweet asleep. _Angelic_ ,” Crawly teased.

They were both jolted backwards as the wagon came to a stop, and the merchant announced they had reached the next town. A few passengers departed, and Aziraphale jumped up.

“Oh, driver! Driver? I need to pop across town for something, I shan’t be long, please be sure to wait for me.”

“Oh yeah??” the driver bristled, meeting Aziraphale’s gaze with a glare.

“Yes,” the angel smiled, and bustled off across the busy square.

Returning an hour later with the few provisions he had been able to barter for, Aziraphale turned in a slow circle as he looked around the town square. The caravan had gone. He checked again before he made to run down the road that led north out of town, almost dropping his goods as he turned a corner and saw the demon, sitting on the edge of a water trough, holding an empty bag out to him.

“You missed it too?” Aziraphale asked.

“A ‘thank you’ would do,” Crawly replied, shaking the bag at the angel until he took it and put the food in. “And no. I waited for you.”

“I - ” Aziraphale startled, taking a step back, “What for?”

Crawly just shrugged, slicing at a carrot with a knife and taking bites from it.

Aziraphale bristled, irritated. “If you were going to wait for me, you could have been kind enough to get the driver to wait for me like I asked him to.”

“’S’not how they work, angel.” Crawly eyed up the bag overflowing with food, “Say, what’s an occult being like you doing _buying_ enough food to survive a week in the desert? Can’t you just miracle it up?”

“I can’t - ” Aziraphale began. Crawly raised an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for further explanation. Aziraphale sighed. He was already on a slippery slope, running away and disobeying orders. Conversing with a demon was bad, but at this point could things really get much worse?

“On the run?” Crawly sneered, before Aziraphale could formulate an explanation.

“How do you kn- ”

“You don’t think I’ve been on the run before? Even without your disguise I can see it in your face. You’ll never get away with it you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll get sloppy, bored, you’ll forget for a second and conjure something up and bang, they’ll be there in an instant to drag you back up there. Pull your wings off or something.”

Aziraphale suppressed a shudder. “I don’t know what your superiors do, but I can assure you, God is _far_ more forgiving.”

“And how many times a day do you deal with God directly?” Crawly asked. Aziraphale held his amber gaze as he pouted. Crawly scoffed, “That’s what I thought. Take my advice. Go back soon. The longer you stay out of favour, the harsher they get with you.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice, demon. I have _Faith_ that God’s Will will prevail.”

Crawly laughed then, harsh and barking. He stood and dusted himself off. “Suit yourself. You’ve got yourself into a mess and rather than try and sort it out you’ll just _rely on your Faith._ ‘God is good’, ‘God is forgiving’, ‘God will tell those nasty Archangels to leave me alone’.” He rounded on Aziraphale then, close and radiating the heat of Hellfire. Aziraphale flinched back, wincing, and Crawly chuckled. “Would it kill you to show a little humility? No, that would bring you down off your high horse, wouldn’t it? It would never occur to The Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate to reach out to another being and say ‘Please, I’m in serious trouble, will you help me?’ Well, have fun sorting it out yourself and wasting your resources. If you Fall come and look me up in Hell. Until then, I’m not interested in you or your problems.”

***

Oh, this was good. Or bad, Crawly supposed. Either way it was something he could use. An angel in trouble with Heaven meant an angel who had been questioning his faith, and Crawly knew all too well what happened when you started asking too many questions. And it wasn’t just some low-ranking ordinary angel; it was a Principality. The soft one who’d done a dreadful job guarding the apple tree and giving away his sword. Crawly should have considered it earlier, he’d wanted an easy job and it was practically being handed to him on an ambrosia-trimmed platter. A nudge here and there would be all it would take. They hadn’t had anyone decent defect to Hell for millennia. A fallen Principality would get Beelzebub off his back for at least half of the rest of eternity. Of course, the angel would have no reason to trust him, but he already had a plan for deflection – tell the _almost_ truth. He would explain to the angel that yes, alright, fine, he _was_ getting something out of helping him, and that he would only need to “pretend” to be trying to corrupt him, that even purposefully failing at it would look good on his reports, maybe get him heard during those annual meetings, that was all he needed, a little promotion in the ranks, just to survive down there. A few days being seen to be with the angel, in which time he could also help him get out of town. If all went well, and Crawly dialled the tempting up a little, Aziraphale would buy his story and go along with it. If not, he had a few threats up his sleeve that might coerce a paranoid angel into submission. And once he was more or less on side, the real work could begin. Crawly eyed up the angel as he walked across the square towards the caravan to pay the driver. His clothes were soaked through from the rain shower earlier, clinging to his soft newly-curved physique, his blond curls damp and flattened against his head and neck, his bright eyes flitting nervously about the driver’s face as he bartered for passage. If this plan did work, it would be nice to have someone decent to look at during those boring meetings…

“Oh,” Aziraphale jumped a little as he reached the wagon. He looked around with no degree of subtlety to find there were no other seats free except the one next to Crawly. “It’s you.”

“I have a name you know.”

Aziraphale looked at him blankly for a moment, before slowly replying, “Crawly.”

“How kind of you to remember.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Eh, neither do I,” he shrugged, before patting the seat next to him, “Coming along for the ride?”

Aziraphale gave him a look, shook his head, and hauled himself up, leaving as much space as he could between them. He shivered visibly.

“Want me to dry you off?” Crawly asked, holding his fingers up poised to snap.

“Oh! No!” Aziraphale squashed himself into the corner of the seat, “Please, no. Demon magic on an angel, might, uh, might explode.”

Crawly shrugged, and snapped his fingers. A small cry left the angel’s lips and Crawly smirked, trying not to chuckle. “Suit yourself,” he said dryly, as the angel wrapped the newly manifested warm blanket around his shoulders. He opened his mouth, and Crawly raised his eyebrows expectantly, but the angel closed his mouth again and turned away, wrapping the warm fabric tighter around himself.

It was some time into the journey when the angel finally spoke again.

“You were right.”

“Hmm?” Crawly sat up, stretching and yawning.

“I said you were right. About the being-in-disguise-and-running-away thing.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Well there’s no need for that tone,” Aziraphale snapped. Crawly waited, watching. Finally the angel closed his eyes and began to talk. “I was reprimanded. Too many ‘big’ miracles. Interfering with the Plan.”

“The Ineffable Plan?”

“Naturally. I suppose it must be. Anyway, Gabriel put a surveillance team on my miracling records.”

“Oh, they must be extra jumpy because of Christ, right?”

Aziraphale sat up, the blanket falling from his shoulders, his mouth open. “No! I - that’s _classified_ \- I mean - he’s certainly _not_ here yet and even if he _was_ I wouldn’t - ”

“Angel, I was there. You really think an actual human would gift a baby something as morbid as Myrrh? Oh, close your mouth and stop worrying, I was just having a bit of fun. My side aren’t planning anything proper until he’s older. We’re not as big on killing kids as your lot.” Crawly smiled as he watched the angel struggle to process this new information. He sat back with his hands behind his head, leaning over the back of the seat to crack his spine. “I can understand your concern though. It’s a big deal for your side, Christ’s birth.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale mumbled, “They won’t want anything to, uh… go wrong… at this early stage.”

“Naturally.” Crawly turned to watch the angel, who met his gaze sideways. Crawly tipped his head, pouting a little. “So... you want to get out of the way for a little while?” 

“Yes. But I wouldn’t ask one of the Fallen for help,” the angel jibed.

Crawly scoffed, and began his sales pitch. “I didn’t _mean_ to fall. I don’t think I even count anymore.”

“Well of course you _count_ ,” Aziraphale snapped, “You’re a _demon_.”

“Hngk. I dunno,” Crawly lied, “Ever since Eden and the whole apple thing they’ve just sort of... left me up here on my own, like a free agent. Someone checks in about once a century and then I’m left to get on with it.”

“A free agent?”

“Yeah. I just kind of,” Crawly waved his hands about, “Do whatever I want, bad stuff, good,” he hiccuped, “good stuff. I’ve done loads of stuff I’m sure you’d be proud of.”

“Really?”

“Downright angelic, me.” Crawly suppressed a wretch at the idea and carried on, “Saved some of the kids from that flood – the one with the big boat and all the animals.”

“The Ark?”

“Yeah that one – set up an orphanage for them. Stayed ‘til they were all grown up too.”

“How kind of you.”

Crawly flinched at that four-letter word but tried to make it look like he was swatting a fly away. “And there was that lad who got thrown to the lions, uh –”

“Daniel.”

“Danny! Lovely kid. Helped him out. Turns out lions are pretty scared of snakes.”

“I suppose small cats are so that does make sense…” Aziraphale mused.

“Then there was your guy, uh, you know! The guy who was eaten by the big fish?”

“Jonah?”

“ _YES!_ ”

“That was a whale.”

“Big whalefish, yeah, yeah – I talked it into spitting him out! He’d have been digested if not for me,” Crawly grinned.

“Fortunate you were there,” the angel said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh!” Crawly cried, moving on swiftly before any questions were raised, “And the Greeks – where would they be without me. That Heracles guy?”

“I thought it was Hercules?”

“Sure. Helped him through his labours, would’ve died on the second one if I hadn’t’ve been there.”

“Really? What was the second one again?”

Something in the angel’s tone gave away that he knew and was testing Crawly.

“The big monster with all the heads,” Crawly guessed. It was the only one he could remember.

“Ah yes,” the angel nodded, “An extra pair of hands would be helpful in that I suppose.”

“Mmmhm. And Jason on his boat, getting that golden fleece – who do you think sorted the harpies out? Or the cyclops? Was it really the humans? Ha.”

Aziraphale wiggled, pouting, before gently asking, “Crawly, I thought those were both just… stories?”

They were. “No,” Crawly drawled, “no, they _became_ stories, angel, because I made sure they were documented.”

“But without you in them…?”

“Well I’m not very well going to advertise my good deeds to Hell, am I?!” Crawly cried, before lowering his voice, “I can’t risk the chance that Beelzebub can actually read!”

“Well I’ll be damned… I suppose I misjudged you, Crawly.”

“It happens,” Crawly shrugged, cursing the smile that was spreading across his face at a job well done. Forcing as serious an expression as he could muster, he leaned in close to finish the job, “Between you and me, I’ve been concerned about Heaven’s agenda for a long while. Those plagues God brought down on Egypt? Worst thing I’ve ever seen. Worse than any demon could come up with. No, really. I actually got sent a commendation from the Boss for those plagues they were so bad – claimed it, of course, to stay out of trouble. But I was among those horrified people watching it happen. I don’t know how you can live with some of the decisions your side makes.”

Aziraphale’s expression crumpled, and he turned away with a loud sniff. Crawly grinned. This was going to be too easy.

  
  



	3. Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly spots another demon travelling on the same caravan and is concerned when Aziraphale draws their attention. When their caravan is stopped by a flood during the night, Aziraphale is less than pleased by their temporary sleeping arrangements in a nearby camp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Lurlur for betaing! <3

The rain was lashing down, soaking through everything and yet failing to dampen the rising dread in Aziraphale’s stomach that this turn in the weather was somehow a sign and very much his fault. The journey had been long and bumpy, with children constantly whining and wailing, and Aziraphale found his temper beginning to fray. When they finally pulled into the next town, Aziraphale leapt from the wagon and ran to the nearest doorway to shelter. Crawly followed quickly behind.

“Delightful, isn’t it?” he drawled.

Aziraphale made no answer, wrapping his arms around himself. Crawly was watching the rain pummelling down, his eyes following various figures as they ran across the square. For a moment his eyes went very wide indeed, and Aziraphale went to follow his startled gaze but found himself hurriedly pulled through the archway and into the shadows.

“What _are_ you d- ”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Perfect, great,” Crawly rasped, clearing his throat, and looking over Aziraphale, “Although actually, thinking about your disguise, uh, dark hair would be a lot less conspicuous around here, don’t you think?”

“Oh, let me keep _something_ ,” he implored, stroking his hair protectively, “Besides, I can’t change it now.” Crawly raised his hand to snap his fingers and Aziraphale stood taller, meeting him eye-to-eye as he growled, “Don’t you _dare!”_

Crawly snarled without malice and waved a hand in defeat. Aziraphale pouted in thought for a moment, and then pulled his scarf up over his head. Crawly frowned at him.

“It’ll frizz,” Aziraphale huffed, nodding out at the rain as he wrapped the scarf properly and secured it. Crawly nodded, looking more than a little relieved, and it almost made Aziraphale smile.

***

_Heaven’s sake_ , Crawly swore internally as they hid from the rain, _how did Hastur end up out here?_ He glanced around the archway again and saw the ashen demon still ambling through the crowd, a smirk on his pockmarked face as he snapped his fingers down by his side. A cart of expensive ware upended at one side of the market. An argument broke out between the merchant and a passerby. Hastur stopped to lurk in an archway near them, and Crawly knew by the focus of his gaze that he was intensifying the argument further. Who was he after, he wondered, the merchant or the visitor? 

Crawly needed Hastur here as much as he needed a hungry Hellhound puppy shoved down his tunic (which he knew Hastur would have supplied and positioned gleefully). Yes, admittedly in thinking up this whole scheme he had considered it would be good to be _seen_ with the angel so he had evidence of his efforts should it all fail. But now that there was actually another demon here, he wanted to grab the angel and sprint as far away as they could get. God certainly had a wicked sense of humour if this was somehow part of her blasted Plan and she wasn’t just granting his wishes out of spite. If Hastur got in on this he would balls the whole thing up royally within hours – no, minutes. You could count on Hastur to go in far too heavy from the get-go and terrify his targets if they actually saw him; and Crawly knew that if Hastur were to find out an actual angel’s immortal soul was up for grabs, there was no way he would sit by on the sidelines. In the thousands of years he had known that pustulent, rotten, bitter toad, he had never known anyone else so overly eager to get a seat on the dark council. It was that desperation Crawly enjoyed subtly stoking, because it was that very desperation that kept him a trillion lightyears off the council’s radar and usually a reasonable distance away from Crawly.

“Ugh,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Aziraphale sighed, leaning against the wall. When Crawly frowned at him, Aziraphale clarified, “The weather. Awful, isn’t it.”

“Mm,” Crawly hummed, “Better climate in Hell.”

“Honestly I can believe it,” Aziraphale chuckled, before remembering himself and clamming up, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his waist. Crawly grumbled. He was losing focus with Hastur around and if his mind drifted the angel might start to ask questions. It may have made him a bit of a hypocrite, but he really didn’t want that. They needed to get out of town and soon.

***

They had found a new caravan at Crawly’s request, a small one loading up to depart that lunchtime and they bartered for passage on it. Aziraphale had settled on a seat next to Crawly and tried to get comfortable, pulling food out of his stuffed bag to nibble on. “Apple?” he offered, but the demon politely declined. Shortly after they set off, Aziraphale noticed Crawly was jumpy. Hours later, he was still looking over his shoulder and muttering to himself.

“What on earth are you mumbling about?”

“Nothing! Nothing, just…adding up…monthly outgoings and, uh… other demonic stuff, angel, nothing to worry about.”

Aziraphale hummed and side-eyed the twitchy demon. There was a lurch and both of them almost fell from the wagon as it abruptly came to a stop. 

“Sorry,” Aziraphale said, letting go of Crawly’s arms.

“Ngk,” replied the flushed demon, who had landed with his face on Aziraphale’s chest.

They left their seat and made their way to the front of the caravan, where a wide rushing river of muddy water raced across the road.

“Oh,” they both exhaled in unison, and looked at each other. This certainly threw a spanner in the works of Aziraphale's quick escape plan.

“I’ll go see the driver,” Crawly said.

“I’ll go see if anyone knows of any crossing points,” Aziraphale said at the same time.

None of the other passengers would catch Aziraphale’s eye. Everyone was soaked through, tired and not in the mood for chatting. It was growing dark and the heat of the day had disappeared long ago.

“Hello, sister,” said a gravelly voice that made Aziraphale’s skin break out in goosebumps. He turned to see a pallid, boil-ridden man staring at him, his head cocked at an unusual angle and a long pale fringe hiding very dark eyes. Occult energy radiated from him. _Oh no, not another one_ , Aziraphale squirmed internally, taking a step backwards. 

“You look weary. A trip like this can get very tiresome for someone like you,” the new demon snarled around a smile. “You look like you’ve got class. I know class when I see it.”

“Right,” Aziraphale began, trying to look for an excuse to politely run away and finding none. Deflection it was then. “And wh-what’s your name, might I inquire?”

“Hastur…it means, uh…” This threw the being for a loop for several seconds longer than it should have. The demon glanced down the angel’s curved physique, wet fabric clinging and hiding nothing and he grinned lecherously. “Shapely. Hastur means Shapely, in, uh, ancient… Aramaic. Yes. And that’s the way I like them. Hu- uh- females. Female women. I like them. When a classy female woman gets together with me, believe you me, she, uh… enjoys it. Very much. Uh…” He consulted what looked like smudged notes on the palm of his hand, shrugged and scratched his head. Aziraphale swore he saw a maggot crawl between the strands. He fixed Aziraphale under that dark gaze again. “What’s the matter, sister, you’re not saying much?”

“Seems you’re doing enough talking for the both of us,” Aziraphale snapped as he continued to look around for Crawly. His scarf slipped back a little, revealing wet angel-blonde hair.

“Ooh!” Hastur cackled, flashing blackened teeth, “Well shut my big rotten mouth! She’s gutsy too. I’d like to see those guts…” He paused then, really frowning at Aziraphale. “Do I know you?”

Aziraphale shook his head, backing away until he bumped into someone behind and apologised.

“I must do. You look… _almost_ angelic,” Hastur continued, hopping awkwardly down from his perch on the caravan and cornering the angel.

“No, no no,” Aziraphale scrambled to both reposition the scarf and escape, “you’ve mistaken me for someone else, really, I, um…” 

“Did it hurt?”

“Sorry?” Aziraphale squeaked out, trapped.

“When you fell from Heaven? Did it hurt?”

Aziraphale felt the blood drain from his face. Could this demon sense something? Did he know?

“It burned for years for me…” Hastur mused almost inaudibly, then seemed to remember where he was and spluttered a bit.

A slender hand closed over the ashen demon’s shoulder and he was yanked backwards to reveal a soaked through Crawly, his auburn hair running in dark rivulets around his face. There was a lightning flash that lit up his features, and for a fleeting moment he looked frighteningly fierce.

“There’s a seat back up there for you,” Crawly growled and shoved Hastur back towards the caravan.

“I – but – Crawly??” Hastur babbled, “I thought you were on assignment in - ”

“This human _isss_ my assssignment,” Crawly hissed from behind a pantomimic secretive hand while gesturing back at Aziraphale with the other, “But I can’t discussss that in front of her can I??”

“No, uh…” Hastur straightened up and spoke overly loudly, “Excuse me, miss, I was just trying to make your evening more plea- pleas-” He wretched and spat a cockroach onto the ground before croaking out, “pleasant.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale grimaced, watching the bug skitter away.

“Come on a- _dear_ , this way.” Crawly grabbed Aziraphale’s arm and yanked him away, walking out into the wilderness.

“Who was that??” Aziraphale hissed once they were out of earshot.

“Just some idiot.”

“Was he the reason you’ve been so - ” 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But - ”

“Come on, the driver said there’s a camp not far from here. The wagons aren't going anywhere until the water goes down and I’m not freezing outside all night.”

They trudged across the wilderness until shapes loomed out of the rain, forming into tents as they drew near. Aziraphale almost breathed a sigh of relief. 

He waited by the wet smouldering remains of the campfire while Crawly bartered for lodgings. There were a few embers still alight in the centre of the ashen pile. A large raindrop hit them square on and they flashed out into grey oblivion. Thunder rumbled overhead. Aziraphale swallowed hard, hoping they could get inside soon.

“Good evening!” a woman’s voice cried out over the downpour, and Aziraphale turned around. She was old, with a weather-worn face and a smile that made her eyes crinkle. “I hope you and your husband have a comfortable night with us!” The woman handed Aziraphale a woven blanket before disappearing into a tent out of the pouring rain.

Aziraphale stood still, wide-eyed, replaying those words over and over in his mind. If Crawly had introduced them as a couple then that meant…

“OI! ANGEL! Are you trying to drown, get inside!”

Aziraphale flinched, glancing back at the woman’s tent, and made his way towards theirs. _Theirs_. He shivered again.

Stepping through the gap, he found it to be a reasonable size, certainly a little bigger than it looked from the outside. Crawly was already tying a rope up to hang across the space between two makeshift straw and blanket beds.

“Clever, these nomads,” he grinned at Aziraphale as he tied a tight knot, his long hair still dripping wet down his back.

“Certainly,” Aziraphale mumbled, clutching the damp blanket tight against him. “I just had the unpleasant experience of hearing you referred to as my ‘husband’.”

“Yes,” Crawly chuckled, “I’m afraid the family purse won’t cover separate establishments, it was this or the camel shed and the rain, wifey dear.

“I think I’d rather the camels…” Aziraphale jibed, glancing between the two beds and the open space between them in this now small-feeling tent. Sharing sleeping quarters with a snake seemed like a death wish. “That demon on the caravan was an amateur compared to you. What in Heaven and Earth made you think I would ever stand for this?” He gestured at the two close beds.

Crawly straightened up then, turning fully towards Aziraphale. “Now hold on. If you’re fostering any stupid idea that I’m _interested_ in you, forget it. You’re just a meal ticket for me, nothing more.”

“A what??” Aziraphale squeaked, feeling all too much like a mouse in the presence of a predator. “You’re not – I’m actually a _job?_ You weren’t lying to that other demon??”

“Bravo, one point for you. Look angel…” Crawly sighed, sitting down on one of the beds. He paused, sweeping his hair over his shoulder and splitting it into three sections. He began to braid it as he continued, “You told me your sad story, I hope you’ll be kind enough to hear mine out. I’m in a little bother myself, so your needing help right now is actually very fortuitous. I need to be _seen_ to be doing something big, you see, and I figure if I’m seen _trying_ – not actually, you understand – _trying_ to tempt an angel over to our side – and a Principality such as yourself too – well at least I’ll be seen to be making an effort to ‘further the cause’, as it were.”

Aziraphale head spun as he took all of this in. He didn’t like it at all. “There’s a brain behind those eyes, isn’t there? You’ve got this all figured out,” he snarked.

“Listen,” Crawly said, getting to his feet again and stepping towards Aziraphale, “this is a mutually beneficial thing here. I get seen to be ‘doing my job’ without having to lift a finger. You get safe passage and protection out of the country. And, I mean, we both have some half decent company for once! We know each other, a little, we don’t absolutely despise each other. It might be just about bearable, angel.”

Aziraphale nodded. He had heard quite enough two minutes ago and had no intention of spending another second with a lying snake. He almost said as much, but bit his tongue. “Thank you,” he said finally, meeting Crawly’s eyes and shoving the blanket into his hands, “Really. You’ve been most helpful.” He opened the flap of the tent and lightning flashed across the sky, the thunder deafening. 

Crawly chuckled low behind him and a shiver ran up Aziraphale’s spine as he stood, frozen, watching the anger of the Heavens play out across the night sky. 

“That’s right, go on out into the storm. Get struck by lightning, land yourself instantly back upstairs and don’t expect to get a new corporation anytime soon, not until they’re done with you.”

Aziraphale huffed, gathered himself and took one step outside the tent. A bolt of lightning hit the ground barely twenty feet away. Aziraphale shrieked, leaping backwards into the tent, the fabric falling back down in his face.

“I’ll go in the morning,” Aziraphale said weakly.

“And I’ll follow you,” came Crawly’s voice, “Wherever you are, I’ll be there. And if you try to fight me, well, I can still remember how to draw a portal in a pinch. I’ll send you straight to Head Office.”

“ _Which_ Head Office?” Aziraphale asked the tent fabric.

“Does it matter?” Crawly replied, horror rising in Aziraphale’s throat at the thought. Aziraphale heard him walking away, before he continued, “But, behave yourself, angel, and I’ll see that you get away quietly and safely, and that I have a decent report to file of an attempted big job in which I was defeated by a worthy foe, so the Dark Council will get off my back for another century. Now, I’ll take this bed by the door.” 

Aziraphale turned back around and found he could no longer see the other bed. The woven blanket was hanging over the taut rope, blocking the view between the two beds. Aziraphale prodded it and the fabric rippled. “I suppose this makes everything alright, does it?”

“Hmm?” Crawly looked up from straightening his sheets, “Oh yes. Behold, the Walls of Jericho.”

Aziraphale snorted. They had both been there to see the actual things fall. This was no comparison.

Crawly ignored his derision and continued, “Clearly not as thick as those Joshua blew down with his trumpet, but _much_ safer, because...” he paused, rolling his sleeves up to show his bare arms, “as you can see, I have no trumpet. So, seeing as I’m very tired, would you mind please joining the Israelites?” Crawly gestured to the other side of the blanket. Aziraphale scoffed, folding his arms. He was still half tempted to run out of the tent and risk the lightning and the angry serpent. The serpent in question shrugged and began undoing his belt. Aziraphale felt his stomach lurch.

“Perhaps you’re interested in how a demon undresses,” Crawly smiled, wrestling with the knot. Aziraphale resisted the urge to shake his head, not wanting to show his disgust or terror. Crawly continued, “You know, no two do it alike. I once knew a demon who fully transformed back into an animal every night, just crawled out of his clothes. True story. Centuries later his secret came out – his claws were permanent and he couldn’t undo buttons without ripping the whole thing to shreds!” The belt came loose and was tossed onto the bottom of the bed. Crawly undid the two buttons at the collar of his tunic and carried on talking as he undressed, much to Aziraphale’s rising horror, right in front of him. Would the demon have skin or scales beneath that black fabric? He was about to find out. “Now, according to most, now that I’ve undone the buttons, the tunic should come off next. But that’s where I’m different!” He bent down, much to Aziraphale relief, and took off his sandals. His relief was short-lived however, when Crawly straightened up and crossed his arms over to grip the hem of the tunic, a wicked smile gracing his otherwise angelic features. “After that though, well, it’s every demon for himself.”

Aziraphale wretched and ran for the other side of the blanket, shuddering all over and shaking his head. Crawly snickered, whistling the tune of a song Aziraphale remembered hearing children singing in town. The light of the candle went out and Aziraphale heard Crawly settle into his bed. He waited a few moments until he could hear steady breathing and risked a glance around the blanket. Crawly’s amber eyes glinted even in the darkness, wide open and watching. Aziraphale had never felt so seen in the pitch blackness.

“Still with me, angel?” Crawly purred, “Get yourself to bed, a good night’s rest will do you the world of good.”

Aziraphale nodded silently, waiting to see if those eyes ever left him, ever closed. He heard Crawly huff out a small laugh. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, if you stay. The Walls of Jericho will protect you from the big bad demon.”

Aziraphale prodded the thin fabric again, not at all convinced.


	4. The Great Deception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archangels report back to Gabriel. Aziraphale and Crowley wake and have breakfast together, but have to get inventive when they find themselves in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Lurlur for betaing and making me laugh! <3

“Of course you haven’t found him, he’s too _smart_ for you!” Gabriel cried, adding a placating chuckle to the end of the statement as he fixed the trio of archangels with a disdainful expression above his permanent smile.

“We checked all the towns,” Sandalphon explained, wringing his hands, “All the high-class establishments.”

“And the restaurants and sustenance markets,” Uriel added.

“And what about outside of the towns?” Gabriel asked.

“There are only nomad encampments,” Michael giggled, and Uriel nudged them. Michael cleared their throat, “We _know_ Aziraphale would never deign to stay somewhere like that. His miracle records show he has high standards of comfort.”

“I thought I made it clear,” sighed Gabriel, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that we needed to _find_ Aziraphale.”

“Y- yes?” the trio responded, glancing at each other.

“Then check in these _other_ places!! He’s gone rogue, remember? That means he might behave out of character! Check the encampments, the stables, the… the...”

“Public houses?”

“Those too!” Gabriel cried, wondering what on earth could be public about a house.

“I can assure you he won’t be in there, Gabriel,” Michael began.

Gabriel shook his head and snapped his fingers, his garb changing into something more appropriate for warmer climes. “We’ll see about that.”

***

Aziraphale snuggled down into the wool blankets. He hadn’t managed to sleep for very long, but he had found his little nest of fabric to be supremely comfortable and had enjoyed dozing in its cosy embrace through the night. He must have drifted off because now the sun was up, shining outside the tent. The Walls of Jericho blanket hung before him, an impenetrable wall of beige wool with a pleasant striped and checked pattern to it. He sat up, stretching a little and yawned. 

“Morning,” he called over the blanket. No response came. “Did you sleep well?” Silence. He shrugged; perhaps demons slept in. There was a rustle and he heard footsteps come into the tent. “Hello?”

Crawly’s head popped around the blanket, his long red braid whipping around with it. “Are you not up yet??” he cried, shaking his head. “You’ll miss breakfast if you don’t hurry up!”

“Oh! There’s breakfast?” Aziraphale sat up properly.

“If I decide to make it…” Crawly drawled.

“Oh, you sweet thing!”

“There’ll be no breakfast if you call me that!!” Crawly cried, brandishing a spoon around the edge of the blanket.

“No but Crawly, I - ”

“If you’re not up in 10 seconds I’m going to come round there and drag you out of that bed myself.”

“Really, Crawly - ” Aziraphale implored.

“One, two, three - ”

“I don’t think you would!”

“Four, five - ”

“I’m an angel of the Lord, you know!”

“Six, seven, eight - ” 

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“NINE - ” Crawly growled.

“I’M UP, I’M UP!!” Aziraphale leapt up, tripping slightly on the bedsheets and almost pulling the Walls of Jericho down. He straightened up, patting the blanket and chuckling lightly. “No harm done,” he smiled. “Well, I think I’ll take a little turn around the camp myself, get some fresh air.”

Crawly grumbled and waved a hand at him without looking back, busying himself with the bundle he had carried in.

Aziraphale stepped out of the tent and squinted at the bright morning before him. In the daylight he could see all the brightly coloured tents that made up the temporary village, a jolly splash of colour in the dry wilderness. He smiled, thinking about the perseverance of humans to always make things bright and cheerful, to help get through the grey days. The clouds moved and sunlight, warm and comforting, shone down on the camp. Aziraphale sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, letting the warmth spread across his face.

“Hello, sister,” came a voice serious as a grave, just as the sun disappeared again and a cool wind blew around them, rustling the tents. “We need to talk.”

***

Crawly threw the spoon down in frustration and snapped his fingers to will the porridge hot and the eggs cooked. He knew the angel was fussy with wanting ‘real’ food, but he’d have to make do. He pulled down the Walls of Jericho so there was room to sit and eat.

On cue, Aziraphale came back inside, looking disgustingly cheerful as usual. “You’ll never guess who I ran into out there.”

“Gabriel?”

“Heh!” Aziraphale laughed, a nervous, strangled sound followed by a cough, “No, that would have given me quite a fright! No, it was your friend, Hastur.”

“Ngk?!” It was Crawly’s turn to sound tense.

“Yes, he apologised for last night. Said he didn’t realise we were together, and to particularly tell you how sorry he was.”

“Really…” Crawly mumbled, rolling his eyes. The day Hastur was sorry was the day Hell would freeze over. He would bet any money on Hastur trying to muscle in on this job, trying to suss Aziraphale out and figure out some way he could weasel in.

“Ooh, are those real eggs?” Aziraphale leaned in, interrupting Crawly’s thoughts.

“Uh, yes.” Technically they were, even if they had been prepared by occult means.

“Oh, how lov- ”

“If you start talking like that again, there’ll be no food!” Crawly barked, raising his hand poised to snap.

The angel raised his hands in acquiescence, looking far too saintly for Crawly’s stomach. He dumped both eggs onto Aziraphale’s plate and handed them over.

Aziraphale tucked into the food eagerly, while Crawly picked at his hot porridge. They ate in silence for a little while, until Aziraphale sat back, sated and content. He eyed Crawly nervously, his glance flitting away. “I suppose you must think this is all rather silly,” he said finally.

“Hmm?”

“Running away from Heaven’s wrath.”

“Nooo,” Crawly shook his head, stirring his porridge, “Not at all.”

“Says someone who disagreed so much that they fought and fell for it.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably but didn’t apologise. “I suppose you must think those of us left up there think we’re…better. That we’re perfect, and that we’re all happy and free. Well, on the contrary, I have never been more miserable than these last few thousand years. I’ve always been told what I should be doing and how I should be doing it and when and to whom. It’s exhausting.” He laughed a little then, “Can you believe, this is the first time I’ve ever been freelance – no orders coming in, no one popping down to boss me around. It’s a miracle I’m not panic-stricken wondering what on earth to do!”

“You’re doing fine, angel, believe me.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smiled in a way that made his face go soft and his eyes crinkle. “You know, it’s wonderful being out here in these rural communities. It’s so peaceful. I honestly feel more at peace here than I ever have up, uh…” He pointed upwards and Crawly nodded in understanding. Aziraphale continued, “Truthfully, I think I would have a much happier life in the countryside. As a shepherd maybe. I think I would make a good shepherd, you know.”

Crawly laughed at this, but replied, “I’m sure, angel.” He nodded upwards, “You think they’ll be looking for you then? A Principality goes missing, they’re not exactly going to ignore it?”

“Oh certainly. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gabriel had sent a team down to search for me. He’ll be out of his wits.”

They giggled together, finishing their food and thinking of how frantic Gabriel must be at that exact moment, wondering if those violet eyes would be nearly falling out of his head with stress. Their laughter was just dying down when a familiar nasal voice outside spoke, “Excuse us, nomadic human, sir, we are here to search all of your fabric dwellings.”

Aziraphale squeaked, knocking his plate to the floor with a clatter. It sounded like Sandalphon…

“Be not afraid. We mean your people no harm.” Gabriel’s voice carried like a thunderclap in a pass. Aziraphale turned the same shade as his hair.

“ _Ssssshhhit!”_ Crawly hissed, almost upending his bowl as he stood.

“Um, ok, well, they’re here, so,” Aziraphale said in a voice that was far too calm for the expression in his eyes, “so I’ll just have to hand myself over, that’s it, game’s up I’m afraid, well it was a good run of it while we had a head start, wasn’t it, Cr- ”

“You are _not_ giving up on me now, angel,” Crawly snarled, gripping the shell-shocked angel by the shoulders and shaking him. He was not losing this opportunity, not now just as he was beginning to win the angel around. “This is _not_ the end, you hear me? We’re a long way off that.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s voice cracked. “Ok. But what do we do??”

“I think you’ll find I have the highest jurisdiction to search your entire encampment, nomadic human,” Gabriel’s voice rang out clear and alarmingly nearby.

Crawly cursed and hissed. “Disguissssses,” he finally rasped out. He raised his hand in front of Aziraphale’s face.

“Nonononono!”

He snapped. Aziraphale’s hair turned raven black. It made his eyes shine. Crawly swallowed hard. “See,” he whispered, “Didn’t explode!” He quickly mussed the hair up into Aziraphale’s face and pulled his tunic askew a little, before handing him a willed-up hairbrush.

Aziraphale unclenched his fist from his side and shook his hand as he let out a shaky breath, taking the brush. “Yes. Well done. Well, that’s me. What about you?”

“What about me, he doesn’t know me??”

“He doesn’t need to; you’ve got a dead giveaway!”

“Hnrk?”

“Your _eyes_!!”

Crawly grimaced, contorting with irritation as he skidded about trying to come up with a plan.

“We’ll start with this tent,” Gabriel’s voice was right outside their tent. Three shadows fell across the doorway. Crawly grabbed Aziraphale’s scarf and wrapped it around his eyes. No time like the present to find out if he could rely on his other senses.

“I HEARD FROM YOUR AUNT YESTERDAY!” Crawly cried too loud, feeling his way to one of the tent poles.

“What??” Aziraphale hissed.

“Play along!” he groaned, “And _do_ something! Brush your hair.” 

“Oh, right,” Aziraphale whispered. Crawly heard the sound of the brush dragging through the knots he had created.

“SHE SAID RUTH’S BABY’S DUE NEXT MONTH!” 

“Excuse us?” came a small voice from the entrance.

“I SURE HOPE IT’S A BOY, DON’T YOU??” Crawly continued.

“Can we come in?” it said again.

“AUNT SARAH THINKS IT’LL BE A GIRL! SHE HASN’T BEEN WRONG IN YEARS.”

“Out of the way,” came Gabriel’s resounding voice, and Crawly heard two sets of footsteps march into the tent, followed by a lighter third set.

“Come in!” Aziraphale called out, and Crawly suppressed a snort at Aziraphale’s attempt at a womanly voice. It was far too sing-songy. “There’s a man here to see you, sweetheart.”

“Ngk,” Crawly mumbled, leaning on the tent pole. He forced himself into character. “Who’s there?” he reached out blindly with his hand and it hit something solid. 

The solid thing shoved his hand back at him and said, “What happened to this one?”

“Uh…” the human hesitated, “Must be the…eye infection…that’s been going around the camp.”

 _Lucky me._ “Yes, that’s right. Doctor’s orders, these bandages,” Crawly said, “Who’s there?” No one replied, and he heard footsteps and the rustle of clothing moving past him.

“Who are you?” he heard Gabriel say.

“Hmm?” came Aziraphale’s high-pitched response. The sound of the brush was rapid and harsh.

“What’s your name?”

“Are you addressing _me_?” 

_Careful,_ Crawly thought, hearing some of Aziraphale’s usual sass slip into the voice. “Who is that?” Crawly snapped, reaching out and stepping towards the voices, “Who’s there addressing my wife in that tone?!”

“These men are, uh, detectives?” came the unsure voice of the human, “They’re looking for - ”

“I don’t care who they’re looking for,” Crawly waved his hands about and satisfyingly smacked someone; he really hoped it was Sandalphon. “Even if they have an entire detecting… department, well they can’t just barge into _my_ tent and start questioning _my_ wife!”

“There’s a lot of occult energy in this fabric dwelling,” Crawly heard Sandalphon murmur, and Gabriel hummed in agreement. 

“Well don’t get so _excited_ , darling,” Aziraphale’s saccharine voice rang out, “The man only asked a simple question.”

 _Oh. He’s good._ A fight would be a good distraction.

“How many times have I told you not to interrupt me?!” Crawly yelled.

“Well, you don’t have to lose your temper!!” Aziraphale snapped back.

“Oh yeah, and what would happen if I didn’t! Huh? Who would protect you? Not an hour ago that big dumb angel came by the tent and hit on you!”

“He didn’t hit on me, I told you, he _blessed_ me!”

There was a disappointed “oh” chorused from the far corner.

“It was a blessing he made it away from me with all his limbs still attached! He was all over you!”

“He _wasn’t_ , you’re still drunk from last night!”

“Lies!” Crawly roared, clutching the tent pole he had almost walked into and waving an accusatory hand in the direction he hoped Aziraphale was in. “You’re just like your pa! Once a shepherd’s daughter, always a shepherd’s daughter!”

“Oh!!” Aziraphale screamed.

“There’s not a single brain cell shared between your entire family!”

“Oh, you’ve gone too far this time!” Aziraphale wailed and continued to bawl and sob in far too dramatic a fashion.

“Shut it!” Crawly snarled, fighting back a grin.

“Oh dear, oh dear, look what you’ve done!” whimpered the human, “I _told_ you they were just a nice couple passing through.”

“Yes,” Gabriel said. A large hand clapped onto Crawly’s shoulder and he jumped. “Apologies, infected human male. We’re actually looking for the angel who visited your wife this morning - ”

“Shame you’re not looking for a shepherd’s daughter!” Crawly growled at them, before roaring over Aziraphale’s wails again, “QUIT BAWLING!”

They carried on crying and yelling until the voices of the archangels and the human faded. They both stopped, listening to the silence. Crawly ripped the fabric from his eyes and blinked against the light. His eyes finally settled on Aziraphale, hair brushed out into a great cloud of blue-black fluff, blue eyes wide.

“You weren’t bad there,” he started to laugh, “Jumping in like that, you’ve got a brain haven’t you!”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Aziraphale giggled, “I can’t believe that worked!”

A cry rang out across the village, “FLOOD WATERS RECEDED! CARAVAN LEAVING IN FIVE MINUTES!”

Angel and demon both swore in turn and dashed about, preparing to leave.


	5. Chicken Feed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale accidentally gives his identity away, bringing Hastur's wrath down on Crawly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Lurlur for the support and the feedback <3

The passengers on the caravan had been glad to get back on the road. It was a long journey to the next town and they would have to travel through the night and part of the next day. As twilight closed in, some of the passengers began to softly sing folk songs. These got louder as others joined in, becoming rowdier and ruder as the darkness drew in and they all sought out company and a morale boost to get through the night. Crawly was laughing and singing along with the rudest songs. It wasn’t a bad voice, Aziraphale thought, listening. The tone was harsh and a little forced, but it was predominantly in tune, but mostly it was fascinating to Aziraphale to watch the demon having _fun_. He’d never really thought of demons having fun; he’d sort of assumed they just lurked around all the time spreading discord. He glanced about and spotted the other demon, Hastur, a few rows behind, staring out at the passing wilderness and doing his best to ignore the humans around him, before looking back to Crawly, hanging off the back of their seat and conducting everyone in the chorus. There was certainly something _different_ about this particular demon… The current song finished with a rousing chord and everyone clapped and cheered.

“Alright, alright,” said one man, standing up and wobbling a little as they drove over the bumpy road, “Time for something a little more refined I think.”

He began to sing then, and Aziraphale grinned as he recognised the song. He hummed along, and everyone joined in the chorus, with another man taking the second verse.

“I’ll take the third!” Aziraphale shouted, and Crawly shot him a wide-eyed look. Aziraphale ignored him and began to sing. The whole assembly went silent and listened in awe to his pristine countertenor voice that seemed to make the air around them ring and shimmer. Aziraphale hit the last high note before the chorus and looked down at the group. They were all staring, including Hastur who was frowning at him. Oh dear, had he done something wrong?

“Wow!!” cried a child.

“How do you sing like that?!” asked a woman in the row behind.

A flurry of applause broke out which descended into rhythmic clapping as they all sang through the final chorus. Hastur watched Aziraphale the entire time with unblinking eyes blacker than the surrounding night, and the angel began to feel quite uneasy. The song ended and he quickly sat back down next to Crawly and resolutely stared away into the distance.

“That was fun, wasn’t it,” he said eventually, with a forced lightness.

“Mm sure. Nothing like singing to hide your identity, doesn’t give it away at all.”

“Well there’s no need for sarcasm.”

Both he and Crawly shuffled about on their hard seat, trying to get comfortable. 

The night wore on and the singing continued, but neither Aziraphale nor Crawly joined in again. Crawly was just beginning to drift off to sleep to the sound of pleasant harmonies when there was a bang. At the same time, the wagon tipped to one side, and several bodies flew out of their seats. Aziraphale had been thrown backwards over their seat and landed between it and the seat behind, squashed into the small space. When Crawly’s alarmed face appeared over him and their eyes met, they both began to laugh.

“You must thank the driver for me, Crawly,” Aziraphale giggled, “This is the first comfortable position I’ve been in all night!”

Crawly cackled and reached to help pull Aziraphale out. They smiled as they dusted themselves down and looked around to see how the other passengers were doing.

“HELP!” someone screamed nearby. “PLEASE HELP!”

Aziraphale ran in the direction of the cries, swiftly followed by Crawly and several other dark shapes.

A young boy lay on the ground, unconscious, and it was clear that the lower half of his right arm was at an odd angle.

“Oh, that’s an easy fix,” Aziraphale whispered, crouching down.

“ _Oi,_ ” Crawly hissed, crouching down with him and grabbing his outstretched hand, “You _can’t_. Remember??”

“Oh!!” Aziraphale gasped, glancing back at the child, “Oh no! But… well, I mean an injury like that, I…” Aziraphale’s face creased in concern.

Crawly rolled his eyes and, ensuring none of the humans were paying too much attention, passed his hand above the child’s arm. There was a faint crack and the limb straightened again. This woke the child, who immediately began to sob and grabbed at Aziraphale, seeking comfort.

“I’ll go look for their parents,” Crawly suggested, standing. Aziraphale looked up and immediately met Hastur’s eyes, standing directly opposite them. He was staring down Crawly with an odd expression on his face, a sort of disgust or contempt, though Aziraphale was unsure if that was simply his usual expression. The child wailed again and clawed at Aziraphale, who immediately went back to soothing him and assuring him his parents would be along any moment.

***

Crawly had been searching for several minutes with little success when a clammy hand closed over his elbow and yanked him to one side.

“Well, Crawly,” came a low, malcontent voice from the dark figure gripping him, “If I were to come across another demon cavorting with angels and performing _miracles_ , do you know what I’d do?”

 _Screw it up somehow._ “Who’s performing miracles?” Crawly replied as nonchalantly as he could.

“You were,” Hastur said, “Back there. _You_ fixed the child’s arm.”

“Rubbish!” Crawly scoffed, “Don’t think demons could even do that. I’ve certainly never tried, have you? Wouldn’t have thought of it myself, I - ”

Hastur stepped in front of Crawly, blocking his path and forcing him to stop. “I always knew there would be traitors trying to get back into Heaven. And I always knew it would be you.”

“I – WHAT?!” Crawly cried, “You think I’m…??? With an angel?? What crazy juice have you been drinking?!”

“It’s _obvious_ , Crawly,” Hastur grinned, “I had my suspicions when I spoke to her this morning but then she gave the whole game away singing like that. Oh I can’t _wait_ to see what the Dark Council decides to do with you once I hand you over.”

 _The Dark Council_ … “Actually,” Crawly began, leaning in close, “I’m not meant to tell you this but I’m on a Top Priority mission _for_ the Dark Council to corrupt that particular angel and uh…” Crawly looked up into Hastur’s boil-ridden face, barely able to make out more than a faint glint of his black eyes against the absolute black of the night around them. He passed his tongue over his lips and considered his options. “Well, it’s a lucky thing, my running into you,” he lied, and then closed his hand over Hastur’s still on his elbow. “Let’s go talk this over privately where the humans can’t hear us.”

Crawly led Hastur further away from the caravan and further away from the angel. His mind raced as they walked, grasping at strands of plans that might work, or might at least get him out of the immediate firing line of Hastur’s wrath. 

“Well!” He whirled around, making Hastur flinch. “Just the demon I need, I could use a smart head like yours! A key player, a top of the line tempter down the generations, you should have been my first thought on a mission like this.”

“Of course,” replied Hastur indignantly, “Frankly I’m surprised the council put someone as lowly as you on any sort of mission.”

“Well that’s the thing, Hastur m’boy, they needed someone who wasn’t so well-known, someone who wasn’t high-profile, otherwise it would give the whole game away. Now if they’d got you, a Duke, directly involved, the whole thing would go up in smoke. But see, here’s my thinking, because they said if I needed back up during this part of the plan, I’d have to find it covertly, you get me? Keep it all hush-hush so no one would find out. That way if it all goes wrong and blows up in my face, there’s only me who’ll get punished. No one would trace it back to the Dark Council or to anyone else high-up, like your Most Wicked self. And if I can get your support from the sidelines, get you to furnish the operation and run it from the wings, no one will be any the wiser as to your involvement and I’m confident the whole thing will be a huge success.”

“Obviously,” Hastur agreed, “Foolish of you to even attempt it alone.”

“Going to need all the brains and tricks and legions at your disposal.”

“Legions?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What do you need legions for?”

“Well we’ll likely run into some trouble when we get near the Pearly Gates, I’ve got a few decent Hexes I picked up, but if a Duke of Hell can provide us with a legion or two ready to ambush them if they start to attack, I can guarantee a promotion from the Dark Council is as good as in the bag for you.”

“In what bag, I don’t have a bag…” Hastur spluttered, “And what do you mean the Pearly Gates, you’re not going…” He pointed upwards hesitantly, “Up There??”

“Yeah!!” Crawly nodded vigorously, “What else?! You don’t think I’m wasting my time going after that lone, pitiful, soft _Principality_ do you? Ha! Chicken feed.”

“We’re going to feed her to chickens?” Hastur interrupted.

“What?? No! It means… oh, never mind. Listen, we’re going to use that coward to get us right into the juicy centre of this whole she-bang. We’re going after the Big Boy, the Boss of the Outfit.”

“You mean… G-Gabriel?” Hastur wheezed, “S-say, I, uh, I didn’t, heh, realise it was anything like _this_ , I mean this is…”

“Hey,” Crawly growled and felt brazen enough to grip the front of Hastur’s tunic. The demon yelped and Crawly worked hard to maintain his scowl as he snarled, “What’s the matter with you?? Scared of a few prissy Archangels _,_ Duke Hastur?”

“No no no, but listen Crawly, this plan, it’s – it’s too much, th-they’ve got - ” He squeaked again as Crawly tightened his grip, “They’ve got Holy Water up there, gallons and gallons of it, didn’t you see what they did during the last War? What Gabriel did to our soldiers?? Look I’ve got a decent role down there, I’ve got… I’ve got temptations to finish that I’ve spent decades investing in, I can’t afford to get - ”

“Listen” Crawly hissed, getting as close as he dared with Hastur’s rank breath, “You’re in this now and you’re _staying_ in it, you know too much!”

“I wouldn’t tell a _soul_ ,” Hastur gulped.

“If you don’t keep your mouth shut this plan could go up in flames, and not the good kind. You’d have the entire Dark Council to answer to, they’ve been planning this revenge for decades. If _you_ mess this up by blabbing - ”

“I won’t blab. Never blab, me, never say a word. Never talk. Not me. No.”

“You better remember that, or I’ll _ensure_ Satan Himself knows who cocked this whole thing up, and you know he would find the worst punishment imaginable. Even a Duke wouldn’t survive his wrath.”

Hastur squealed, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I _would_ ,” Crawly snarled, baring his teeth, “Now I don’t want to see you anywhere near this caravan again, do you understand? I won’t have this mission compromised.”

Hastur paused, looking Crawly up and down and glancing back towards the caravan. “That angel… can they just create Holy Water? Even in the desert?”

Crawly grinned, “Shall we go find out?”

Hastur shrieked, ripping himself from Crawly’s grasp and dashing away into the night. 

Crawly wiped his hands down on his tunic as he made his way back towards the bustling crowd. They were trying to reattach the wheel that had come off. The angel was no longer on the ground where the child had landed, and Crawly soon picked him out speaking to a couple who the child was wedged between. They were crying but smiling and nodding. When they moved off, Crawly stepped up beside the angel.

“Found the parents then?”

Aziraphale jumped a little at Crawly’s sudden appearance and cleared his throat, “Um, yes. The boy is fine, the arm looks like it was never broken. You did a very g- ” He stopped himself and started again. “He won’t have any trouble from it I’m sure. I reassured them he was simply lucky in the way he landed - a, uh, miracle, if they could believe such things.”

“They do happen,” Crawly replied.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale shuffled next to him, “So you were gone a while?”

“Yeah, about that, we, uh, we need to get going.”

“They’re fixing the wheel now.”

“No. I mean _we_ need to go.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain on the road. Come on, angel.”


	6. It's Just Your Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having left the caravan, Aziraphale and Crawly continue their cross country journey on foot, looking for somewhere safe to spend the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Lurlur for reading! <3

By the time Crawly had explained everything the sun was rising. They had reached the river and were walking along the banks looking for a shallow enough crossing point.

“Oh dear, you really shouldn’t have scared him like that,” Aziraphale chuckled, watching the sunlight dancing on the water. He frowned, wincing as another pebble lodged itself inside his sandal. “Sorry, hold on, you said you scared Hastur away with that ridiculous invented scheme? Then why did we have to leave the caravan?”

“Because when he stops running, he might start thinking and come back looking for us.” Crawly sighed, “I’ve been thinking actually… maybe I should lay off the whole…” he mimed snapping his fingers without actually letting his fingers meet, “…for a while. I don’t think they really keep tabs, but just in case Hastur or…anyone worse comes looking for me. I don’t want to get caught faking this report, it has to be believable.”

“Oh I see…” Aziraphale shook out his sandal and slipped it back on, “How unfortunate that we ran into him at all.”

“Hastur is unfortunate in general,” Crawly grumbled, “And this blasted river is going on forever.”

“Quite,” Aziraphale mused. They had been following the river since before the sun came up and judging by the currents in the distance, it wasn’t going to get shallower any time soon. However, the stretch they had stopped next too was reasonably calm and slow flowing.

Aziraphale stepped into the river, his jaw clenching at the bone-aching cold that sunk through the ankles of his corporation.

“What the Heaven are you doing??”

“Crossing the river.” Aziraphale waded in a little further before turning back to wave the hesitant demon in. 

Crawly shook his head. “No way.”

“It gets worse upstream,” Aziraphale pointed at the rapids, “We’ll walk for days if we carry on, I’m sure. If this is the direction we need to go in, then we may as well cross now.”

Crawly looked as though he was trying very hard to come up with a counterargument and, finding none, promptly stepped into the river right up to his ankles. 

He howled and leapt back onto the shore.

“HOW ARE YOU STANDING IN THAT IT’S RIDICULOUS IT’S LIKE ICE HOW CAN YOU DO THAT??”

Aziraphale looked down at his numb feet and shrugged, “It’s cold. It’s a river, they’re always cold. Come along, hurry up before I freeze in here.”

“I’M NOT GETTING IN THAT!”

“Well, you’ll have to find your own way to cross then.” Aziraphale turned around with his nose in the air and began to wade towards the far bank. The water gradually rose until it was around his waist and the rocks grew slippery under foot, so he had to watch his step. Just as he almost fell into the water, something long, black and shiny slithered past him in the water. “OH!!!” he shrieked and almost toppled backwards again. The huge snake zigzagged through the water and moved back towards him, slithering up Aziraphale’s chest and wrapping his tail around his waist. Aziraphale shuddered at the feeling of wet scales against his neck as Crawly slithered around to rest his head on his shoulder.

“It’ssss freesssszing,” Crawly hissed.

“Quite,” Aziraphale stumbled and Crawly gripped tighter, but the angel managed to remain upright. “Good thing you have me here to give you a piggyback.”

“Thissss issssn’t a piggyback!” Crawly rasped.

“It is.”

“Isss not!”

They reached the shallows of the river’s edge and Crawly slipped from Aziraphale’s torso. He slunk up onto the dry bank, morphing back into a slightly damp shivering demon.

“Know that I hate you right now,” Crawly tried to growl, but his chattering teeth took all the bite out of it.

“Never mind that,” Aziraphale waded towards him, “You just said no more miracles!!”

“Pffft,” the demon spluttered, shivering, “Sssss’not a miracle. Just me b-being a ssssnake.”

The afternoon sun dried them both and brought them to the outskirts of a settlement with several large farms surrounding the town. Aziraphale opened his bag. There was a single small bread roll, blooms of blue and white mould flowering on its surface. He grimaced and turned the bag upside down, shaking it out and rolling the bag up to tuck under his belt, next to his purse. He checked that too, but there were only a couple of small coins in it. 

Crawly had been watching him throughout this and nonchalantly offered, “We should probably head into the town. Find some shelter. Get some food.”

“No,” Aziraphale replied, tying the purse shut again. “There are fewer people about out here, we’re less likely to be spotted.”

“I don’t think a starvation diet is going to agree with you, we ought to try and get something.”

“We’ll see,” Aziraphale said brightly, “Come along, it’s getting dark. Perhaps we can find somewhere to sleep over…” He waved vaguely at the smattering of farm buildings in the distance, “…there.”

The moon had risen and they had walked past two busy farms by the time they found a quiet farm with an open barn piled high with straw. “Here,” Aziraphale said with shaky enthusiasm, “This looks like as good a spot as any. If straw was good enough for Christ then it’s good enough for us.”

“Uh huh.”

“We can certainly sleep out here.”

“Or give a good imitation of it…” Crawly retorted, pulling some straw down and pushing it into a pile. Aziraphale looked around, wondering what type of farm it was and whether they had an orchard. Crawly looked up and frowned, "What’s wrong?” 

“I’m hungry…”

“No you’re not.”

Aziraphale lamely kicked his pile of straw. “I am. I’m hungry, and to be entirely candid, more than a little scared about sleeping out in the open like this.”

“Rubbish, you can’t be scared and hungry at the same time. Fear scares hunger away.”

“Not if you’re more hungry than scared.”

“Fine,” Crawly snapped. He looked up at Aziraphale’s pile of straw and rolled his eyes, standing up and marching over to mold it into a better shape. “There. Your bed’s ready.”

“I’m going to get straw stuck in my clothes…” Aziraphale mumbled, looking sorrowfully at the makeshift bed.

“Then take them off,” Crawly retorted.

“What??”

“Fine, don’t take them off! Do whatever you like, just shut up and let me sleep. I’ve been awake for days and we’ve walked miles and I’m honestly starting to wonder why I got myself mixed up in all of this.”

“What about your report?” Aziraphale asked, untucking the rolled up bag from his belt and laying down in the straw.

“Attempting to corrupt an angel of the Lord? Heh,” Crawly scoffed, lying down, “Turns out you’re more likely to drive me insane first.”

Aziraphale huffed and turned onto his side, facing away from Crawly. He heard the demon roll over a couple of times before settling, and in the newfound quiet he listened to the soft buzz of insects nearby, the braying of livestock, watching the moonlit trees nearby moving in the breeze. He felt a lump begin to develop in his throat and tears pricking at his eyes. He didn’t know if it was the long day they had had, or if it was becoming difficult only having a tetchy demon as a companion, but he found himself beginning to talk. “You know, you’ve become very disagreeable lately. I say one little thing and you practically snap my head off. If you find being with me so utterly disgusting, well, you can leave. Surely you’ve got enough material for your report now, and we’ve been seen by another demon so there’s your evidence. No, nobody is holding you here, Crawly. You can leave any time you like. I’ll get along just fine without you.”

The insects and braying cattle answered him. Crawly had stopped rustling in his straw bed.

“Crawly?” Aziraphale sat up and saw with alarm that the other bed was empty. He leapt to his feet and looked around. Silence and moonlit fence posts stared back at him. _Oh no._ “Crawly??” _Oh no oh no he actually left me all alone out here._ “Crawly!?” _I didn’t mean it. Oh please no. I can’t do this on my own._ “CRAWLY!?!”

“WHAT??” Crawly sprinted over and grabbed the hyperventilating angel, “What’s wrong??”

“I was so scared that – that – I thought – ” Aziraphale blubbered, tears streaking down his face.

“I went to find you something to eat,” Crawly pulled an apple out of the filled bag he was holding and offered it to the angel, “Here, stuff yourself silly if you want.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale choked out, “Oh, I’m not hungry now…”

“But you said you were!!”

“I was but… but then I got so scared that I…”

“Holy _Heaven_ ,” Crawly cried, throwing the bag of apples down onto the straw. “I never thought angels were capable of torture, you really are going to drive me crazy!”

Aziraphale sniffled and laid back down on his straw bed, shivering as the wind blew across them. His teeth began to chatter and he wrapped his arms around himself.

“Here,” Crawly appeared over him, “Lift your head.”

Aziraphale obeyed and thin fingers brushed his neck as Crawly unwound his scarf, opening it out.

“It’s cold tonight,” he explained, laying it across Aziraphale’s torso and hips, leaning down as he tucked it around the angel and pushed some of the straw up to trap it in place. 

Aziraphale watched him, frowning a little. Crawly’s hair brushed Aziraphale’s cheek, and he could smell brimstone and something bittersweet like burnt caramel. Crawly finished tucking the straw around him and looked up, his reptilian eyes meeting Aziraphale’s and pausing for a moment. There was an odd look in them that Aziraphale hadn’t seen before, something almost… soft and golden. The moon shone behind Crawly’s head like a halo, casting a silver glow around his hair, and Aziraphale forgot to breathe as he wondered if this is what Crawly had looked like before...

“Well,” Crawly croaked, jumping up and laying back down on his own bed. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Aziraphale replied, blinking and staring up at the moon, trying to reconcile everything he ever knew about demons with the actions of the curious creature sleeping six feet away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a bit of a shorter one, ended up splitting 2 chapters into 3 as it worked better for the story. But this means that I have the next two (more or less) lined up to post sooner rather than later! So more story coming your way in the next few weeks! Thanks everyone who's subscribed and is sticking with me through these uncertain times! <3


	7. A System All My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly and Aziraphale decide to hitchhike the next leg of their journey out of the region. As usual, all does not quite go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again Lurlur <3

Crawly limped a little as they hobbled down the road together. The night had been colder than he expected and he had woken up curled into far too serpentine a position for his human corporation to comfortably stay in. His left ankle throbbed. His head throbbed too, a headache manifesting as his brain continued to race through the events of the day before. The feel of Aziraphale’s warm torso under his scales as they crossed the river, trying not to look at the way the fabric clung to the angel as they both dried in the sun, the way Aziraphale had stared at him for a moment last night, those ocean-coloured eyes pulling Crawly in and making him linger just a little too long. It had made Crawly’s chest physically ache in a way he couldn’t explain, and the feeling hadn’t gone away this morning. He wanted to stop walking and grab the angel, pull him into his arms and - _No_ , he berated himself, _I can’t think like that. It’s dangerous and… and stupid. I’m starting to win him over that’s all. No time to get over-excited and blow the whole operation. He may be a soft angel but he could probably still smite me straight back down to Hell if I crossed a line too soon. Besides_ , he smirked a little at the thought, _there will be plenty of time to seduce Aziraphale once he's on the same side._ That had been the whole point of this idea hadn’t it? Get Beelzebub off his back _and_ have someone attractive and interesting around. 

“What did you say we’re supposed to be doing?” Aziraphale asked, interrupting Crawly’s thoughts.

“Hitchhiking.” 

“Well… we’ve done an awful lot of the hiking. When does the hitching come into it?”

Crawly almost laughed, but winced as his ankle rolled on a stone. He spotted a wall up ahead and, limping, led the angel to it. “Sit here.” He helped Aziraphale up onto the wall, vehemently ignoring the way the pain in his chest worsened when the angel took his hand as leverage. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale beamed.

“Hngk,” Crawly cleared his throat. “Alright, you wait here and I’ll get us a ride.”

“How?” the angel asked.

“Don’t you worry,” Crawly replied, hobbling to the edge of the road, “It’s a system all my own. A bit of temptation to get curious travellers to pull over and give a demon a lift.”

“Temptation with what?”

“Money or gossip usually,” Crawly shrugged. “But see it’s all in your delivery, your stance, your expression. You stand here all confident, do a short, sharp movement like this,” he demonstrated, “that says you don’t care if they stop or not. You’ve got money and it doesn’t matter to you if you’re paying them or the next guy.”

“I see.”

“But if you look a bit more excited, add a sly smile, bit of the old eyebrows, oh, now they know you’ve got a juicy story about the local farmer’s daughter that they don’t want to miss.”

“They can tell all that from the position of your eyebrows?”

“Uh huh. Oh and then of course there’s the greatest guilt trip of all, this one, when you’re hungry and penniless and the one thing that will save you from despair and misery is a ‘good samaritan’ getting you out of here.” Crawly stooped, his face suddenly drawn and full of intense agony as he made a low, slow sweep of his arm, thumb up.

“Astounding,” Aziraphale said flatly, “You figured this out all on your own?”

“Just comes naturally to a demon,” Crawly grinned, “Shut up, here comes a wagon, I’ll try the first version. Keep your eyes on the thumb.”

He stood tall, smirk plastered on his face and gave a sharp jerk of his raised thumb. The wagon thundered past, kicking up dust.

“I’m still watching the thumb,” Aziraphale said as the dust cloud cleared.

“Hmm, must not have done it right, you’re distracting me with your Heavenly influence.”

Aziraphale held up his hands in saintly supplication before gesturing for Crawly to continue as another wagon approached. 

Thumb movement version two went much the same as the last one. Clearly that merchant had no interest in what the local farmer’s daughter was up to.

“I’ll try the third one,” Crawly grumbled, only slightly deterred.

“Wake me up when you get to a hundred,” Aziraphale replied, lying down on the wall.

A caravan of wagons approached in a cloud of dust, and Crawly tried it all, a long sad face, an eager smiling face, confident, desperate, begging, threatening. As the last wagon rumbled past he lost his temper and his head reverted back to snake form, dark and hissing. As the dust settled he shook his head back to its usual appearance and shuffled back over to lean on the wall by the angel.

Aziraphale yawned dramatically, making a pantomime out of stretching. “Are you finished having fun?”

“Yeah, alright, don’t make a huge deal out of it,” Crawly snapped.

“Mind if I try?”

Crawly cackled, wiping at his eyes, “An Angel of the Lord trying out temptation? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Ah yes, of course I forget I’m in the presence of a Master of the Demonic Arts. No one knows anything about the inner workings of the human mind except you, Crawly.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and Crawly stuck out his forked tongue, snarling a little. Aziraphale smiled, straightening his robe over his bust as he turned determinedly towards the road. “But I’ve been down on Earth long enough that I think I know one or two things about how human society functions. Permit me an experiment, Crawly. I’ll stop a wagon, and I won’t use my thumb.”

“How??”

“‘It’s a system all my own’,” the angel quoted back at him, deadpan.

“Oh ha ha, very funny,” Crawly folded his arms and slouched.

As a wagon came rumbling into view, Crawly’s curiosity made him look up to watch. Would the angel raise a hand in that classic saintly pose? Or reveal his true form, wings and all to make the mortal stop in fear? Or perhaps - 

Crawly choked on the air as Aziraphale reached down to lift the hem of his robe and revealed a bare, shapely feminine leg to above the knee.

“Angel, what the - ”

There was a bray of donkeys and the creak of the wagon coming to a stop. As the dust settled, Crawly could see it was a young man, thin and gawky in the driver's seat, staring eagerly at the once again modestly covered Aziraphale, looking penitent as ever.

Crawly stormed over, ignoring the twinge in his ankle.

“Well,” Aziraphale said brightly as he was helped into the wagon by the young man, sitting down and turning back to beam at Crawly, “Aren’t you going to thank me, dear?”

“Why didn’t you take off all your clothes,” Crawly snapped, clambering in with no help, “You could have stopped three entire caravans.”

“Thank you for the advice, I’ll remember that for when we need three caravans,” Aziraphale beamed as the wagon took off and Crawly fell into his seat.

“Pulsifer at your service, any bits or bobs you need you let me know and I can get them for you!” said the gawky young driver as if giving a sales pitch to his now captive audience. “Might even have them on board, you never know what Thou-Shalt-Not-Steal Pulsifer the Second has on board, it changes day to day and it’s always brand new! So, you two just married then are you? Need any cooking pots? I’ve got copper ones from Gaul in the back, pristine condition, if you’re in the market.”

Aziraphale went to answer but Crawly gripped his hand tightly for a moment, silencing him. There was no need, as Pulsifer continued on having barely stopped for breath.

“Or eloping are you? I can see you’re from different tribes - certainly don’t see much of that red hair in these parts, seen plenty of it when I was trading up North. Got some Pict blood, have you? Ah yes, if I was wanting to get married I’d probably elope, and what better way to get away than hitchhiking! Hitchhiking down the trade routes, together and in love, quite romantic really.”

“Yeah, alright,” Crawly snapped, “Where are you heading to?”

“Just making my way gradually out to the Silk Roads on Samson here. Do you want to know why I named my wagon Samson?” He chuckled and didn’t wait for a response, “Because it’s always self-destructing! Ha! I swear it’s made of the strongest wood in all of Gaul, I traded a king’s ransom for it while I was there, but the wheels break twice a year and the latch on the back is a joke! Oh but don’t you worry, hand on heart, I just got the wheels changed last week. So here we are, riding eastwards on Samson, your currently sturdy carriage to freedom and happiness. Where can I drop you two lovebirds?”

“ _Crawly,_ ” Aziraphale whispered, leaning in, “If he’s heading for the Silk Roads we could stay with him and get far away from here!”

“I’m not sticking with this guy until China, there’s something I don’t like about him.” 

“But Cr-”

“The next town east is fine,” Crawly said loudly, fixing Aziraphale with a look.

“Alright then,” Pulsifer shrugged, “I just need to stop up ahead to water the donkeys.”

They pulled into a small collection of huts, half circled around a water trough. The donkeys drank greedily in the early morning heat, a brief reprieve before all too soon Pulsifer had finished tying them back up to the wagon and made his way around to address his passengers. “There’s a man here, makes the best bread you’ve ever tasted. How about a bite to eat, it’s a very reasonable price?”

Aziraphale grinned and began to rise from his seat, “Oh, that would be - ”

“No thanks, we aren’t hungry,” Crawly interrupted.

Pulsifer looked between them and shrugged, “Of course, I forget that young people in love are rarely hungry. I’ll give you newlyweds a little privacy.” He laughed to himself and disappeared into a nearby hut, whistling a tune. Aziraphale’s heart sank as he sat back down, mouth watering as he daydreamed about warm fresh bread.

“How were you going to pay for it?” Crawly asked, “What, just give him and the bread maker a blessing for their troubles and give the whole game away?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed, “I’m really hungry, Crawly.”

“Oh, eat an apple,” Crawly growled, chucking the bag at Aziraphale.

“I don’t want an apple,” Aziraphale snapped, putting the bag down, “I’m going to get some bread.” He rose from the seat and Crawly shoved him back into it again.

“You do and I’ll give you up to Gabriel this instant.”

Aziraphale’s mouth opened in shock, and then closed to a firm line as he stood up, shoving past Crawly and stepping down off the wagon. He thought about storming off into the hut anyway, of getting his hands on that delicious bread. Would the crust be crunchy or soft he wondered, would it be plain or with seeds... With a sigh he leaned on the water trough, his back to the wagon. 

He jumped a little as a warm hand slipped into his. Glancing around, he saw Crawly perched on the edge of the trough.

“I’m sorry,” the demon said softly.

“You’re probably right,” Aziraphale replied, “Best not to give the game away over a little food.”

Crawly hummed and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, not letting go. The sun broke through the clouds overhead, and for a brief moment both angel and demon raised their faces to its warmth, feeling their shoulders relax a little.

There was a rumble of wagon wheels and a cacophony of harsh equine cries as Pulsifer’s wagon pulled away - without them onboard.

“HEY!” Crawly’s hand slipped from Aziraphale’s as he ran after it, “YOU’VE STILL GOT OUR BAG! HEY!!”

“CRAWLY! You don’t have to - it’s alright - Crawly!!” Aziraphale took a few steps and quickly realised he would never catch them up without a miracle. “Oh bother.”

***

In reality he probably only waited at the stop for twenty minutes or so, but to Aziraphale’s anxiety it felt like it had been hours. He was near overwhelmed with worry and on the brink of using a miracle to track the demon when he heard the rumble of wheels approaching. The donkeys galloped around the corner, almost tipping the wagon as Crawly careered down the road and skidded to a stop.

“What happened??” Aziraphale cried, “I was so worr-”

“Get in,” Crawly waved impatiently at him, helping him up onto the bench.

“You’ve got a cut on your head!”

“Yeah, yeah, come on, sit down.”

Aziraphale sat down just as they pulled away. The jagged cut on the demon’s temple was weeping, a slow trickle of blood running down to his cheekbone. 

“How did you get the wagon?”

“Don’t ask.”

Aziraphale went to ask anyway but immediately thought better of it. Instead he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and used the end to dab some of the blood away. Crawly snarled a little but said nothing, and soon there was only a small cut visible. 

“Your classic bandit in disguise and not a very good one either,” Crawly explained as he drove, “Picks people up and steals their things, that’s how he gets those things to sell.”

“So much for ‘Thou Shalt Not Steal’...” Aziraphale pouted.

“We’ve still got his stock in the back. Mostly worthless but he wasn’t lying about those copper pots. A small one is probably good for a loaf of bread at the next stop.”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. He sat back and watched the road ahead for a little while. Something bumped against his foot and he looked down. It was the bag of apples. Their only possession on this wagon and the only reason Crawly had gone after it was so that Aziraphale had food. His jaw ached a little as he tried not to get emotional. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out a large, deep red apple. It looked positively enticing, whether because of demonic influence or extreme hunger, Aziraphale didn’t care. He took a bite. It was delicious.

***

Pulsifer screamed as he sat up and was blinded by a Heavenly light surrounding a silhouetted figure before him, great wings outstretched and hundreds of silver eyes that he could never quite focus on.

“FEAR NOT,” said the figure, several voices echoing around Pulsifer’s head at once, “ALL WILL BE WELL.”

Pulsifer cowered into his arms, “Oh saints preserve me, not another one! I’ve already dealt with enough today.”

The light faded and Pulsifer felt someone shaking him gently, “Hey, traveller, are you alright? I heard the commotion. Was it the bandits?”

He looked up into the thin, kindly face of a woman with grey eyes and copper hair.

“Yes - no - I don’t know, I mean he and his wife seemed so normal when I picked them up, she looked positively angelic! So pure and ethereal and those eyes... But then the husband - he chased after me and he had a snake’s head and these huge black wings and - ” he stopped babbling to take a deep breath, surprised to find a rib he had been sure was broken when he passed out to be completely fine. He raised his hand to the gash on his forehead to find it had vanished completely. “Oh my…” he trembled.

“Come along dear, I’ve a tent nearby, there’s some warm milk on the fire, that will get you back to your right self.”

Pulsifer told the full story to the woman over their steaming cups, and she listened intently, asked a few questions he thought were a little strange but found himself answering regardless, and as he drank he found the memory of the whole morning slipping through his grasp. The edges of his vision darkened and closed in.

Michael sat by Pulsifer’s unconscious body waiting for someone to pick up. Finally there was a crackle and Pulsifer’s body sat up rigidly straight and his jaw opened loosely to croak out the greeting: “ _What?_ ” 

“Who’s that?” Michael responded.

“Ligur.”

“Ah. It’s Michael.”

Ligur chuckled, sounding like Pulsifer was choking on gravel, “Defecting already?”

“Nonsense,” Michael bristled, “I want you to understand I haven’t changed my mind and I don’t like you. Any of you. Never have. Never will.”

“You made that clear when you pushed me off the precipice.”

“Yes well, that hardly matters right now - ”

“Matters to me,” Ligur grumbled, “Boiling sulphur is no laughing matter." He gave a low laugh, "Least it wasn’t then.”

Pulsifer’s body began to tip to the side a little and Michael held it upright with one hand. “Listen, Ligur, is there a chance one of yours has defected or gone rogue? I’ve had a report of a snake demon on the loose, possibly working in league with one of ours. We’re trying to find them to confirm. Obviously we’ll reprimand our man if there's been any fraternising, but I thought you ought to know about yours. I’m not willing to do your work for you, you know.”

“Snake demon?”

“Yes, corporeal form is a man with red hair according to a human witness.”

 _“Crawly_ ,” Ligur growled, “Hastur said he was up to something…”


	8. The Stars Are So Close Overhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crawly stop for the night at another campsite. Crawly thinks it's a ridiculous decision and wants to push on through the night, but Aziraphale insists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lurlur <3

“Any luck?” Aziraphale asked, rising from his seat on the wagon as Crawly emerged from the edge of the camp holding a rope and a blanket to his chest.

“Yeah, they’ve agreed to let us stay. We’ve got that tent on the eastern edge.”

“Marvellous. How many of these pots will cover the cost?”

“I talked him out of that line of thinking for now,” Crawly shrugged, “Convinced him we’re staying a week and we’ll pay on departure.”

“Rather smart thinking I must say, Crawly, though I do think we should pay them something for their troubles.”

“You think so?” Crawly shook his head, “If you ask me, I think it’s ridiculous to stop at all. We’re barely two hours from the coast, with that copperware you could easily barter for passage on a boat out to any part of the Mediterranean you like. Or we’d easily make the northern border during the night!” He squinted at the angel who wasn’t meeting his gaze. “I thought you were in a rush to get out of the country? With Christ here they won’t be expecting you to go that far afield, they’ll still be looking for you close to the action, a push through the night and you can get awa-”

“Really, who ever heard of catching a boat in the middle of the night? Everyone will be sleeping!” Aziraphale huffed, taking the bundle from Crawly and pushing past him. Crawly watched him go, long silver-blonde hair glinting in the last flashes of daylight.

Grumbling, he sorted out the donkeys for the night. Why on earth did the angel want to stop now? He was just delaying the inevitable. Of course Crawly wasn’t going to take him to the coast or the northern border. Come the morning, according to Crawly’s plan, they would be heading in a much more downward trajectory. It’s just that Crawly had a creeping feeling in his gut that he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the morning to come quite so soon. His mind kept fixating on an imagined image of Aziraphale’s devastated expression of betrayal when the truth was revealed. But then it would flicker back to the reality of the way the angel had looked at him the night before, like he had hung the moon and stars. He wanted to see that expression again.

Shaking his head to silence his thoughts, he picked up the bag of pans for safekeeping before heading towards their rented tent.

Aziraphale had already set up the blanket and had made a decent job of it too. Crawly set the pans down noisily, and climbed into the empty bed before him. Quickly it grew dark, a crack in the tent fabric streaking an errant sliver of moonlight down the blanket.

“So,” Crawly ventured when the silence began to irritate him, “Tomorrow morning you’ll be a free man, more or less.” Best to keep the angel thinking things were going his way.

“Barring any last minute disasters, yes,” came Aziraphale’s voice from the other side of the blanket, his reply making something clench in Crawly’s stomach as his brain revved into gear again and Aziraphale’s imaginary betrayed eyes stared into his. Crawly shook the image from his mind. The angel continued, “And you’ll have a brilliant report to write up won’t you? Keeping an angel in your demonic clutches for this long? I’m sure no one has ever managed it before.”

“Hmm,” Crawly shuffled down in the blankets, trying not to think too much about having Aziraphale in his clutches. “We’ll certainly have outsmarted both our head offices. I guess we should be quite happy with ourselves.”

There was no reply, so Crawly rolled onto his side to try to go to sleep. The blankets were itchy and he turned over a couple of times trying to get comfortable.

“Am I going to see you again?” asked Aziraphale.

“Oh, sooner than you’d think, I’m sure,” answered Crawly, wincing a little.

“I mean, do you have any upcoming projects in the north?”

“Nope.”

“Well, why don’t we - ”

“Look,” Crawly cut him off, starting to get annoyed, “I don’t make a habit of running about with angels. It’s all well and good for a one-off report, but if we’re seen together too much… ngk, who knows what would happen. World might explode.”

“Yes I suppose you’re right…” 

The sad tone in Aziraphale’s voice made Crawly grumble into the blankets.

“Besides, what do you want me around for?” he growled, “I’ve served my purpose, haven’t I? You wanted to get away from Gabriel and pursue a happier, peaceful, boring shepherd life out in the world, and I’ve brought you this far, haven’t I? What else do you need me for?”

Crawly waited with an odd anticipation for the response. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was waiting, or wanting, to hear.

“Haven’t you ever longed for a more peaceful existence, Crawly?”

“What??” Crawly almost spat, thrown by the turn the conversation was taking.

“Haven’t you ever thought about it? It seems to me you’re not terribly happy in your current employment either.”

Crawly opened his mouth to reply and only a sigh came out. Of course he was unhappy. He was a nobody, a no-rank demon who had simply got lucky being assigned to head up to Earth and cause trouble, and had caused so much trouble they let him carry on. Sure, the temptations were sometimes tolerable, if he could avoid being in the same region as Hastur or Ligur... But although the little everyday grievances he caused really tickled him, a feeling behind his ribs was gnawing away at the thought of doing it for thousands of years to come. Corrupting humans ad infinitum sounded a little like one day it might start to lose its novelty. If he were _really_ honest, it was already starting to.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” Crawly snapped, “Who hasn’t? If I could find… But where’s a demon going to find something else to do other than… than demon-ing? You know, something that’s real and gives job satisfaction and makes me feel… alive. I don’t think your precious God would allow it, not for a traitor like me.” He laughed, a bitter sound that caught a little. “Have I thought about it? Heh. I’ve even been sappy enough to make plans for if I ever got out. Back when I was up… before… and I was out in the galaxy putting things together, I made this cluster of stars. I’ve never forgotten it. I’d like to go back there, to be able to see them again, maybe even make more if I still could. Just to be out there in that never-ending emptiness and to be able to _create_ something, you know, to have the building blocks of the universe in your hands. The stars are so close overhead you can reach up and swirl them around… and you feel like you’re more than just a worthless cog in a machine, that you’re really a part of something enormous and unfathomable and brilliant...”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely, out there on your own?” Aziraphale’s voice seemed small against the vastness of Crawly’s memories.

“I suppose so,” Crawly scoffed, coming back to himself, lying in his small corporeal form in the dark in a tent. He shrugged, unable to fight a slight smile as he held onto the threads of that nostalgic feeling. “If I could find someone who wanted those things too I guess I…” Crawly trailed off as Aziraphale’s stark blonde hair peeked around the edge of the hanging blanket, followed by two large sparkling eyes illuminated by the strip of moonlight. Aziraphale lips were parted open and he stared at Crawly as tears ran down his cheeks. Crawly’s stomach tightened and he sat up, only just resisting the urge to leap out of the bed and wrap the angel up in his arms, apologise for whatever he had said to upset him, wipe the tears away from his eyes, his cheeks, run his hands up his back in comfort. His hands tightened on the blanket to anchor himself in place. “Angel, what’s wr-”

“Take me with you,” Aziraphale sobbed over him, and threw himself down to his knees next to the bed, gripping Crawly’s closest hand in his, “I want to do all those things, I want to see the stars too, please, take me with you.”

“I think you’d better go back to bed…” Crawly murmured, Aziraphale’s hand vice tight and hot in his own the only thing that he could focus on. 

“Heaven will go on being merciless and Hell vindictive without us. We can run away, be on our own side. Nothing else matters. We’ll take care of ourselves - of each other. Please, Crawly.”

Crawly swallowed around the lump in his throat, his corporeal heart needlessly racing to match the panic rising in his chest. “I think you better go back to your bed,” he choked out, a little more firmly. Aziraphale’s head snapped up, the bereft look in his eyes leaving Crawly feeling like he had been kicked in the chest. He barely registered Aziraphale’s hand slipping out of his until he realised he was once again alone, a faint whimpering coming from the other side of the blanket, as the angel softly cried himself to sleep.

Crawly lay wide awake, staring up at the tent fabric above him, his mind racing for what felt like an eternity. Aziraphale had been caught up in the moment. Angels are beings of love, maybe they get overwhelmed by it sometimes. He would probably be alright again in the morning, as if it had never happened. Crawly winced as he replayed his parting words over and over in his mind. _Go back to your bed_. What if he hadn’t said that? What if Aziraphale had stayed on this side of the blanket, looking at him that way and saying those things…

Crawly squeezed the back of his neck to try and calm his mind, but as he scraped his nails across the skin there and hummed a little, he realised he was long gone.

“Hey, angel?” he whispered, propping himself up on his elbows, “Hey? Did you mean it? Would you really want to go with me?”

There was a soft snore in response. Crawly sighed, flopping back down on the bed. Kicking off the blanket, he sat up and slid his sandals back on, pushed the fabric aside and stepped out of the tent. The night air was cool on his hot skin and only kindled his need for sensory input. He swore under his breath. He could turn around, walk back into the tent and tear that blanket down right now. It would take five seconds at most.

He growled at himself and began to walk away, out of the camp. The further he got from the torches, the brighter the stars got. 

He wanted to see them properly. 

With a snap of his fingers a cloud covered the moon and the stars came to life. His heart swelled, aching against the constrictions of his ribcage as he looked up and thought of taking the angel to see them. They would stop by Sirius, Alpha Centauri, take a tour of Ophiuchus. They could spend a week in the Grand Nebula alone. He’d been so proud of that one at the time. But first he wanted to find that little star cluster again...

“Not getting zzzentimental for the old timezzz, are you Crawly?”

Crawly froze, any other feelings in his body being immediately chased out by the sharp spread of dread through his stomach. He spun around to face the Prince of Hell, slapping on a wry smile as he tried to relax his posture. “Beelzebub, dude, thought I might hear from you soon! How’s things?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry this is taking so long to update. Life is still throwing me curveballs, both predicted and unpredicted, and is going to continue to do so for...well possibly the next few years I'll be honest. I'm praying I have the time and mental/physical energy to get this fic finished over the next couple of months, but if it's not done by mid-October there is likely to be a (possibly long) break... I'll keep you updated as we go. Thank you so much to everyone who's subscribed to this and has supported me through this, you have no idea how much it means to me that people care about my daft little fic <3


	9. It Wouldn’t Have Made A Bad Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Crawly tries to deal with Beelzebub, Aziraphale is rudely awoken and thrown out of the camp due to Crawly's absence, prompting a lot of soul searching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lurlur for sticking with me! <3

The Prince of Hell was eerily still, seeming to attract every bit of darkness, not a single beam of starlight daring to touch any part of this corporeal embodiment of evil. “You’re very difficult to pin down, Crawly,” Beelzebub folded their arms, “Where have you been hiding?” 

“Oh,” Crawly grinned, shifting his weight to the other hip, “You know… around…”

“Hastur is furiouzzz.”

“And how is my favourite Duke doing?”

“He’s ready to shoot you on zzzight.”

“Wonderful, haven’t been shot at in days,” Crawly’s cheeks began to ache as he fought to hold his smile, “So Beez, how can I - ”

“Don’t ‘Beezzzz’ me,” the Prince of Hell buzzed, “I know all about your planzzz, Crawly.”

“Plans?” Crawly shrugged, “Be fair, I’ve got a lot of plans. Anytime I can help out the cause I’ve always - ”

“Failed.” Beelzebub sneered. “And I’m curious to know how you ever thought you could complete this ridiculouzzzz plan alone, if what Hastur tells me is true.”

“When has Hastur ever said anything true?” Crawly laughed. Beelzebub remained still, glassy eyes fixed on the fidgety demon. Crawly swallowed. It suddenly felt like he was about to get pounced on. “Look, I’ll level with you, this plan see, what I’m thinking is - ”

“You want to invade Heaven. Alone.”

“No - no, no, is that what that rancid old toad said? No, it’s just that I didn’t want to raise any suspicions, see, at this early stage, that’s why I’ve been scouting things out. There’s this defecting angel and - ”

“Azzzziraphale. We know.”

Crawly’s skin crawled with goosebumps. _We know_. Hastur had never learned the angel’s name. Who had been watching them since? What had they seen or heard? He swallowed. “Yes, a Principality too, and um…” He resisted the urge to instantly return to the camp, scoop the angel up and dash off to the distant safety of the stars. “I’d better get back there soon actually, or he’ll start to suspect something,” Crawly managed a chuckle, “Can’t blow the whole plan this late in the game, huh? Not if we want to win.” Crawly watched Beelzebub’s face, the shadow of their permanent scowl twitching into an almost smile.

***

Aziraphale was woken by a shrill voice inside the tent.

“I _told_ you not to trust him!” a woman shrieked, “Look there, he’s gone! I told you they weren’t going to stay a week! They’ve snuck away during the night and not paid you a coin! I’ll bet they’ve taken their cart and all, go check the stables!”

“Sure looks that way…” mused a man. “What’s this blanket?”

Aziraphale sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Hello there?”

The blanket was ripped down and a torch thrust towards Aziraphale. “Look! He’s left his wife!” the man cried, “He’s left her behind!”

“Where’s your husband?” the woman asked sharply, the flickering torchlight exaggerating every angry wrinkle across her brow.

Aziraphale stood, looking over at the empty bed on the other side of the tent. “Oh… he isn’t here?”

“No, he isn’t! And unless you’ve got any money to pay us, you’ll have to get going!”

“Oh but there is, over - ” Aziraphale began to point towards the bag of copper pans, but before he could finish the sentence, the woman interrupted.

“I don’t believe he even is her husband. Probably a traveller abandoning a harlot he picked up by the roadside.” She scowled and looked Aziraphale up and down.

“Now, really! I think you’ll find I am the furthest thing from a - ”

As Aziraphale spoke, the woman snatched the torch from her companion and thrust it towards the angel. “Go on,” she yelled, “Out with you!”

“But I need to find Cr- my husband!” Aziraphale objected as he leapt sideways to avoid the flames.

“Harlot! Out!”

Aziraphale was chased out into the cold night air, and would have considered being quite vindictive indeed were it not for the singular thought pounding in his head, overtaking everything else as his heart raced: _where was Crawly?_

He stood still for a moment at the edge of the camp as his mind raced through every possibility. Being optimistic, there was a rather large chance the demon was still on Earth and had simply left. Whether to get some air, or to get away from Aziraphale after everything that had been said… _Take me with you._ Aziraphale felt nauseous reliving their last conversation. He sniffed, pursing his lips as he tried and failed not to focus on the embarrassment he was now feeling. _I want to see the stars too…_

“Wait…” he murmured aloud. _The stars_. _He was talking about going back to the stars._ Aziraphale looked up, blocking out the light of a nearby torch with his hand. There was a cloud over the moon, and the stars would probably be a lot clearer outside of the camp, so he began to make his way out into the surrounding countryside. 

He continued to worry as he walked. Why had the demon not told him he was going? Had he really been that angry? Or was he in trouble? Perhaps Crawly had been summoned back to Hell for some reason and felt no need to say goodbye. Aziraphale’s chest ached at the thought. After all they had been through together, not even a courtesy farewell? But Crawly had said himself that Aziraphale was far enough away from the action to be able to go off and his own and start his “boring” life, what more help did he need? Although he would have to come up with some other method of payment for passage on a ship now that he had had to abandon the pans. He looked up, now far enough away from the camp’s torches to appreciate the sparkling night sky. _Of course_ , he thought, _a trip to the stars would most likely be free, and would come with much better company._ Hopefully Crawly hadn’t left yet. Hopefully he could talk him back around to the idea.

“And how is my favourite Duke doing?” Crawly’s voice sounded close. Aziraphale’s heartbeat hammered in his ears as he tried to locate the source of the voice. Another answered, a buzzing, grating sound like a fly too close to one’s ear. _Beelzebub_ , Aziraphale thought, _Crawly must be in trouble if they’ve sent Beelzebub up for him._

Coming to the crest of a small hill, Aziraphale dropped to the ground as he spotted Crawly and a dark figure a dozen metres away.

“Failed,” the dark figure snapped. Crawly’s answer was quieter and unclear. Aziraphale gulped. This certainly sounded like a reprimand rather than a standard check in. Aziraphale crawled forwards through the bushes, trying to get a little closer so he could hear properly. Three buzzing words made him freeze where he was.

“...invade Heaven. Alone.”

 _Who was invading Heaven alone?_ Aziraphale shuffled a little closer, catching the end of Crawly’s response.

“There’s this defecting angel and - ”

“Azzziraphale. We know.”

Aziraphale’s stomach tightened at the mention of his name. Hell knew of him then. What had Crawly told them? How many of these meetings had there already been? He looked at the demon’s cocky stance, weight over one hip, the sly grin on his face. He seemed at ease, not a penitent serf being reprimanded at all, but a confident mission lead reporting back to base. Crawly’s chuckle broke through the ringing in Aziraphale’s ears. “Can’t blow the whole plan this late in the game, huh? Not if we want to win.”

 _Win._ Aziraphale felt like the ground was spinning. He wanted to edge back down the hill but he couldn’t seem to move.

“All I’m asking,” Crawly’s voice was too clear in his ears as he spoke, “Is you give me a little more time to fully win the angel over. If I can get in up there, pretend to plead forgiveness and repentance and all that, I’ll be in a position to figure out their defences, you’ll have someone on the inside, _then_ we can send in the battalions.”

“That’zzz not your call, Crawly. Nor izz it mine.”

“Well then how about my back up plan, I didn’t tell Hastur this one, you’ll love this: we make the Principality fall, then we have someone with a strong military record on our side who knows their defences in and out, and then we can - ”

Aziraphale gagged. So much for this being a ‘fake’ mission to get hell off Crawly’s back. The demon had led him along like a lamb to the slaughter.

“The Dark Council liked your _original_ plan. They want to prozzzzeed. Quickly. Battalionzzz will be at the ready awaiting your inside intel. You report to Hastur in the morning _before_ you azzcend with the angel.”

As his stomach roiled, Aziraphale finally found adrenaline returning function to his limbs and shuffled back down until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore. Stumbling to his feet, he walked numbly off into the wilderness.

All that talk about not meaning to fall and doing good deeds and rarely being checked up on was just that then. Talk. Made up by a wily, conniving demon to lure him in and gain his trust before, what, using him to infiltrate Heaven? That whole story about wanting to escape to the stars was probably made up as well. _We can run away… take care of each other…_ Aziraphale’s jaw clenched as he failed to hold back the tears, realising how easily he had been played. What a complete fool he was for almost handing his heart over to a _demon_.

As he crested a hill he saw a great valley spread out below, filled with grazing sheep. A loud snore nearby startled him. The shepherd had dozed off, curled up in the undergrowth, his staff by his side. Aziraphale bent down and picked it up.

_I think I would have a much happier life in the countryside. As a shepherd maybe._

Aziraphale certainly could never have been considered one to ignore a sign from God. He had wished for a peaceful life, and here was one right in front of him. No one knew in Heaven where he was, he could get by without miracles to remain undetected. Hell had an idea of his whereabouts, but he could lead the sheep off now and disappear forever.

A lamb toddled up to him and nudged his leg. It was very small and quite new and still a little unsteady on its feet, wearing the woolly skin of a lamb who had died. Aziraphale had seen the practice done many times before; this little one had been rejected by its mother, and so had replaced the dead lamb of another sheep, wearing its skin so the mother might accept it. _A sheep in sheep’s clothing_ , Aziraphale smirked at the thought, stroking the lamb’s woolly head, _that’s rather how I feel up there, if I’m honest. I think I’ll fit in much better down here, looking after little ones like you._

He glanced down at the sleeping shepherd, ready to snap his fingers and absolve him of his duties. He stared at his poised hand before dropping it as a heavy feeling of doubt began to sink in. Managing without miracles was proving tricky after only twenty seconds of his new life. How would he manage the next twenty hours or days? The next twenty years? Without miracles, what would happen when the weather drew in, when the wolves came? He had no idea how to chase wolves away. _Clearly_. 

Even more than that, what would happen to God’s ‘flock’, the humans? Aziraphale had been assigned to Earth as their protector and advocate. Who would protect them now if he was gone? Sandalphon and Uriel were too vindictive, Michael and Gabriel too uninterested in humanity at the individual level. They would watch over when it suited them, when humanity’s actions provided some sort of advantage to them. No one would check in at ground level unless things were dire. 

He looked back at the shepherd. What troubles did his life hold? In what ways might he need God during his life, and who would ensure his needs were met if not an angel tasked with protecting all God’s children from the evils of this world? From the likes of Beelzebub. _And Crawly._

Tears welled up again and he wiped at his face. He looked down at the little lamb who still stood at his feet, head cocked. “I have to go back, don’t I?” he asked the lamb. In answer, it nudged the staff with its head and looked at the shepherd. Aziraphale sighed, half laugh, half sadness. “Ok,” he raised his eyebrows at the sky, “Message received.” After a couple of shaky breaths, he placed the shepherd’s crook back where he had found it and began to walk through the flock. The sheep parted without fuss to let the angel pass. 

“Ok…” Aziraphale said aloud, trying to gather his thoughts, “Gabriel is going to be mad...obviously. Quite possibly more than mad. So… um…” He paced back and forth at the edge of the flock, thinking. “Well, he said I was interfering too much, so… so I decided to take a step back. Yes. Gabriel, I heard your criticisms of my performance and decided to do something proactive about it and take some time for reflection - a, uh, a sabbatical, if you will…”

 _Where were you?_ asked the imaginary Gabriel in Aziraphale’s mind.

“Oh, you know, around - no that won’t do, uh... I was… I worked as a shepherd. For all of one minute, but he doesn’t need the details, does he? Yes, I worked as a shepherd. For, is God not like a shepherd, after all? Yes, I decided to become a shepherd to become closer to God and understand the Divine Plan.”

 _Why now? Christ has just arrived on Earth, this is our busiest quarter Aziraphale._

“Because… I… I did it because I realised I needed to get a good grip on my purpose here on Earth in order to best serve God’s son while he is here… If I’m still allowed to… Oh dear.” He looked up at the grey sky. There would be consequences no matter what excuses he gave. “Better to face them sooner rather than later.”

Turning back towards the flock, Aziraphale set his shoulders and stood a little straighter. He lifted his right hand. The shepherd was still asleep, the sheep unwatched and unprotected. Aziraphale would see to it no harm would come to this flock this night or any night in the future. His thumb and middle finger met. The snap was quiet but the thunder that followed was not. A shaft of blinding white light fell upon Aziraphale. He took a deep breath, extended his wings, and let himself be carried upwards to whatever fate awaited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get written! I finally have some time to try and get this finished so fingers crossed I can get it done and up in time before life gets a bit more hectic again!! Thanks everyone for reading <3


	10. I’m A Little Screwy Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crawly tries to avoid dealing with his feelings about Aziraphale by getting very drunk. After being beaten up and thrown out of the public house, he returns to Hell to file his false report and face Beelzebub. Aziraphale returns to Heaven and faces the consequences for his 'sabbatical'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lurlur <3
> 
> One f-word in this chapter, Crawly has a few injuries, some brief passing mentions of torture.
> 
> In case you missed it, there's now a ridiculous recreation of an Old Hollywood movie poster for this fic back at the beginning of Chapter 1!

Crawly shuddered as he stared at the smouldering spot where the Prince of Hell had just been standing. Their parting words taunted him, repeating over and over in his mind. _And if you do fail, Crawly, which I expect you will - you’re mine._

He had seen demons who had fallen into Beelzebub’s care. Everyone had. Everyone wished they hadn’t. It was a bit much even for a demon to stomach.

His original idea to simply drag Aziraphale down with him and win points for converting a Principality was out, now that the Dark Council was on board with blabbermouth Hastur’s account of his “plan”. Swearing to make the rest of Hastur’s existence a nightmare, Crawly equally berated himself for making up such a ridiculous story just to get that awful toad off his trail. He had only hoped to scare Hastur away, not rally the blasted troops. Shaking his head, he looked back up at the sky as clouds closed in over the stars. This decided it. They were getting out of here. 

Marching back towards the camp, a sudden burst of white light blinded him, the air seeming to rush past with a crack of deafening thunder overhead. Squinting, he looked around for the source. A great column of glistening white light pierced the night sky several hundred yards away, leading up into the dark clouds above. A figure hung suspended in the midst of it, pearlescent wings outstretched. 

_Aziraphale_. _They found him._

“No, wait!” Crawly ran, tripping over and stumbling towards the light. “Wait!” Sheep scattered around him as he ran. “It’s my fault! Don’t blame him, don’t - ” The light vanished as quickly as it had appeared, the smell of ozone overwhelming as he skidded to a halt. “Don’t hurt him…” His entire being felt like it was sinking down under the weight of his guilt. He looked down and saw the remnants of a circle of symbols burnt into the ground. In his haste to reach Aziraphale in time, he had skidded right through the centre of it and erased a great streak, destroying any possibility of reconnecting the gateway. “ _Fuck_ ,” he swore, diving onto the ground and trying to remember what symbols were supposed to go where. His knowledge of the Enochian alphabet was, understandably, rusty, but in that moment he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t remember enough. Hands shaking, he carved symbols into the dirt. He finally got one symbol right and an electric jolt shocked his hand, burning and making him yell. He sat back, looking at the blackened tips of his fingers, his cheeks wet with tears.

“Having trouble there, son?”

Crawly jumped and turned around to see a shepherd leaning down with an outstretched hand.

“Need any help?”

Crawly hissed, his eyes flaring fully amber. The shepherd stepped back, staff brandished in front of him to protect his herd. Crawly growled, watching them all back away before the sheep began to run and the shepherd ran after them.

_If I were any kind of decent demon, I’d have turned them all to flames or stone or something._

“Shut up,” Crawly snarled at himself.

_Beelzebub is going to have fun with me._

“SHUT UP!” he yelled, tugging at his hair. 

A short journey to the nearest town and several meads later, his thoughts weren’t necessarily any kinder but they were certainly quieter and less frequent.

“‘Nother’un,” he banged on the bar. The bartender came along, refilling his mug with one eyebrow raised.

“What??” Crawly snarled in response to his expression, slamming a coin down on the wood. He sneered at the man next to him until he moved. “M’apaying cust’mer!” he shouted at the room, “Can dr-drink s’much as I like if’m paying!” 

The bartender said nothing, walking away to serve the other end of the bar.

“S’just what I wanted! Leffftalone. Getsome...ssssuh… peace.” He gulped the mead down. 

_Alone. That’s me now. Forever._

“S’not.” Crawly argued with his thoughts.

_Is. Unless I want to be a piñata for Lord Buzzy Beez for the next century._

“Not goin’ to be anyone’s… pin… No pins for me. Th’Dark Council love me.”

_The Dark Council won’t love me long when they find out how I feel about -_

“‘NOTHER!” Crawly cried, “‘NOTHER MEAD!”

The bartender met his gaze, or tried to as he swirled in front of Crawly’s eyes, but he failed to move any closer. “HEY!” Crawly growled, leaning over the bar and waving his mug, which promptly slipped through his fingers and smashed on the ground. The bartender was now looking over Crawly’s head and gesturing to someone. Two large hands closed over the demon’s shoulders and pulled him off the bar. Crawly swung an arm around in an aimless punch but was knocked backwards. His jaw pounded where a large fist had made contact with it. He pounced forwards and met the same fist stomach-first, curling around it like a ragdoll. Before he could summon the power to dissolve this wretched human to ash, he found himself flying through the open door into the cool night air. It was somewhat pleasant, until his cheek hit the dirt and he tumbled over and over, being forcibly brought to a stop against a water trough. As he hit it, a wave of the dirty, cold water sloshed over the side and splashed him on the face and chest, sobering him up. He spluttered, spitting out the mouthful he had inhaled, coughing and retching. The colossal amount of mead in his stomach churned but mercifully stayed down. His jaw ached, he could smell blood, and he was quite sure some of his ribs were in less than top shape. 

“Perfect,” he groaned, moving his jaw around until it cracked painfully back into place. He rolled fully onto his back and looked up at the dark sky. He wondered what was happening up there at the moment. Most likely the angel had begged for mercy, made something up about being kidnapped by a cruel, ruthless demon. They were probably praising him for escaping Hell’s clutches. Crawly scoffed. He was almost tempted to actually try and break in on his own just to get a load of the ridiculous festivities they were probably holding in Aziraphale’s honour. See what Heaven looks like when it’s triumphant. He hadn’t had a good laugh in days. He wasn’t going to laugh for many days to come, once he had to explain what had happened to Hell. He tried not to think about the punishments he would face. 

“All of this trouble just to try and stay out of trouble…” Crawly coughed out a bitter laugh, wincing, “I should have just kept my nose out.” A sickly feeling of unease weighed down his chest as he watched the clouds cover the last of the stars. “Any other demon would have corrupted that angel in less than half the time I had... I had an easy reward in my grasp and I let it go, for what? A matter of principle??” He scoffed at himself.

_I like him._

Crawly groaned, sitting up. “Anyone who could like an angel needs their head checked. Besides, whatever small, trivial regard I feel - _felt_ \- he’s picked his path! The ‘straight and narrow’!” He began to stand up, wincing as he braced himself on the edge of the trough. “What a miserable existence. He’ll get walked all over by those bastards for millennia to come, whether or not he deserves it.”

_I care what happens to him._

“No. I’m glad he’s back up there out of the way. Any demon - no, any _conscious being_ couldn’t live with that goody-two-shoes around without going completely insane!”

_What if he stays up there forever? What if he’s reassigned? I’ll never see him again._

“I’ll be glad if he never comes back. He’s my worst nightmare, and not the good kind.”

_I love him._

“Alright, yes!” Crawly roared, “But don’t hold it against me, I’m a bit crazy right now.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather himself. His rippling reflection looked back at him from the murky water, judging him. He splashed his hand into the water, banishing that drawn, beaten face in a mess of waves and ripples. Pushing himself up off the trough with a pained yelp, he hobbled into the middle of the street and raised his left hand. “Time to face the music.”

***

Gabriel had been waiting for Aziraphale on his arrival, but held up a hand to silence him as soon as he started to try and explain. “This has gone over my head Aziraphale.” It was clear Gabriel was fighting to maintain a serious expression and not smile gleefully as he said, “I’m afraid it will be Metatron you have to answer to now.”

The Voice of God took no prisoners. Aziraphale was interrogated long into the night, every detail of his alleged story examined. Aziraphale made sure to tell nothing but the truth, but not necessarily the whole truth; Crawly’s presence on the journey was entirely left out. Eventually, after leaving the sweating Aziraphale to have a lengthy consultation with God, it was decided. Metatron reported back to Gabriel who, visibly deflated, gave Aziraphale the verdict and his new orders. God had seen that Aziraphale’s intentions had been in the right place, but the way in which he had carried out his ‘reflective sabbatical’ was far below the standard expected from a competent Principality. He was to spend some time under Michael’s management, re-familiarising himself with Heaven’s purpose and mission statements, and assisting with the administration.

“But who will look after Earth?” Aziraphale asked, “I can’t abandon them at such an important time!” 

“Christ is there now,” Gabriel had replied, shrugging as if this were obvious. “Why would they need you when they have the Son of God amongst them?” All the archangels had descended then to take care of some Christ-related business and the eternal white halls of Heaven were silent.

Finally alone, Aziraphale leaned against a pillar and took a few deep breaths. He had survived, albeit to get demoted, but at least he was still in one piece. He looked at the reports on the desk before him. No one else was going to file them, so he picked them up and headed into the back offices where he would be spending all his foreseeable time. As he flipped through the alphabetised files and slipped the new reports in, his mind wandered. What would Crawly be dealing with now? He had likely noticed by now that Aziraphale was gone. Had he returned to the camp to find the tent empty? He laughed a little to himself thinking about the sort of reaction the demon might get from the tent’s owners if he dared to return. _Serves him right._ He slid the last report into place and closed the drawer, his hands lingering on the cool metal as he frowned at a less funny thought. _What will the reaction from Hell be when he turns up without me?_ Doubtless it would be a lot less than merciful, and go on far longer than Aziraphale’s interrogation had. _Would he even get questioned or would they simply…_ He shuddered, pushing those thoughts down. He wondered with a twinge of sadness if he would eventually return to Earth and find someone new in Crawly’s place. While it would be easier and far less embarrassing to never see him again, having to deal with a new and unknown adversary was an entirely unappealing idea. At least he knew what Crawly was capable of. _Better the devil you know, as they say._ But there was nothing he could do about that. He would simply have to wait and see if Crawly had managed to lie his way out of trouble or not. 

A note rattled into one of the messenger pipes behind him, making him jump. As he stared at the message in the tube, a mad thought crossed his mind. Those pipes could send messages anywhere in Heaven or on Earth. Theoretically, was it possible they could send messages elsewhere?

***

Dagon blinked at Crawly, looking down at his report and back up at him. 

“You got ambushed?”

“Yeah!” Crawly cried, gesturing to his injuries, grimacing and holding his ribs, “I got double-crossed! The angel had back-up waiting, all the archangels - together!”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“And they did this to you?”

“Yes! How many times do I have to go over this?? I got taken for a ride, tricked, bamboozled, with all the trimmings. I barely escaped, they nearly killed me! I should have sold tickets, you all could have had a great laugh. Now can I just file my expenses and go?”

“No, they need approval from Beelzebub first.”

Crawly threw his hands up in the air and turned to limp out of the dingy office - almost walking straight into Beelzebub.

“Ah!” Crawly tried to turn his yelp into a normal sound, “Just the demon we need - the Prince of all demons! See, what happened was - ”

“QUIET.” Beelzebub’s buzzing voice reverberated in the small room. Their halo of flies were in a frenzy, a wild look in their eyes. “I’m going to have a lot of fun with you, Crawly. Thiz iz the lazzzt time you let me down.”

“Now, Bee - Beelzebub - your Lordship,” Crawly hobbled backwards, curled around his injuries, as the Prince of Hell advanced, “Can’t you see what those angels did to me? Have some compassion!” He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“What kind of world would it be if demonzz had _compazzzion_ for each other??”

“A… well that would be interesting, I grant you, but my point is - ”

“You’ve been around that angel too long. You’re done, Crawly. You’ll never work in thizz department again.”

Beelzebub raised his hand to snap.

“Hang on,” Dagon rasped, standing up from the desk and walking over holding a piece of paper. “Message for you, Lord Beelzebub.”

“I’m _buszzy_ , Dagon.”

“It’s relevant.” Dagon pointed at the paper. 

Beelzebub’s eyes grew wide, a frustrated snarl twisting their mouth. “A commendation??”

Dagon nodded, “From the Dark Council. ‘For devising and attempting this mission, the demon Crawly is granted - ”

“Ooh, can I see that?” Crawly reached for the paper.

“ENOUGH!” Beelzebub snapped. The memo went up in flames, sparks sinking down to extinguish on the damp floor. “You’re not going to zzee any of thoze for a long time.”

“But, Lord Beelzebub,” Dagon ventured, “If the Dark Council find out one of their commended is being tortured they’ll investigate the department and remember what happened last time they - ”

“I’m not going to torture him,” Beelzebub buzzed. Crawly began to smile but it quickly faded as he saw the glee on Beelzebub’s face. “Not with the _uzzzual_ methodz. If anyone askzz, tell them he’zz had a promotion. Deputy Manager of the Filezzz.” 

The snap of Beelzebub’s fingers echoed in the small room and Crawly was blasted back into a chair. Chains rose up, wrapping around his neck and legs. All he could reach was the desk in front of him.

“HEY!” Crawly struggled against the chains. They burned with a freezing chill where they touched his bare skin.

Beelzebub leaned down, flies buzzing like a swarm of wasps. “I warned you, if you mezzzed up again, it wazz office duty. You can file everyone else’zz commendationzz.”

“For how long?!”

“Until you’re needed. Which I don’t antizzipate will be any time zzzoon.” 

Beelzebub shoved Crawly back into his seat, laughed and left the room as Crawly strained against the chains and shouted after them, “But what about Christ?? He’s been sent down already! You need someone up there to keep him in check!”

“Ligur and Hastur are on assignment in that region,” Dagon replied, filling papers.

“We’re doomed,” Crawly groaned and then winced as his ribs twinged again. He raised his hand to fix his injuries, but nothing happened when he snapped his fingers.

“Blessed chains,” Dagon explained, “You can’t do anything in those.”

“Well can I at least get a new corporation?!” Crawly cried.

“All corporations are checked out at the moment,” Dagon shrugged, fangs glinting in a fishy grin, “You’ll have to heal at mortal speed.”

“Perfect.” Crawly banged his head back against the chair. He had blown an easy assignment, had just lost a huge assignment to the two biggest idiots in all of Hell, and was going to spend the next century staring at Dagon’s scaly face. _Just perfect._


	11. Here's To The Merry-Go-Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About three decades later, Crawly and Aziraphale both return to Earth and bump into each other at one of Christ's sermons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Lurlur!

  
Nearly three decades passed in a blur of never-ending paperwork, the chains at Crawly’s throat and ankles never losing their sting. He kept pressing Dagon about the presence of Christ on Earth, emphatically arguing that they should be doing more. “But he’s the _literal_ Son of God!” Crawly said for the tenth time that week, “This is Heaven pulling in major points for their side! What if this is them getting a jumpstart on the War? Huh? Has anyone thought about that?? They maneuver into position before we even have our battle plans drawn up and boom, Heaven wins! And we’re all just occult dust floating in the void. Not that that would be much of a change of existence for most people down here,” he snarked, watching the grey demon holepunch another document to add to a file.

Dagon, as had been the pattern for all these years, once again assured him it was under control, but there had been very little in the way of paperwork crossing Crawly’s desk to back this up and it made him nervous. Either Hell was playing the long game, or they didn’t think this was as serious as Crawly did.

When Christ ventured out into the wilderness all alone, the Dark Council thought corrupting him would be an easy job. Crawly moved the update reports across his desk with no small degree of despair. Hastur had tried to make Christ turn rocks into bread, as if he were some sort of magician or wizard. Ligur had asked Christ to throw himself off a building; no subtlety there. Someone lacking in brain cells had decided to send one of the clones up just to see what happened. At a loss for original ideas, they had demanded to be obeyed and worshipped, which predictably had only succeeded in making Christ laugh. It was only at this point that the Dark Council remembered Crawly existed and had spent four millennia getting to know the human world and its ways; begrudgingly they requested he try. 

With his corporation healed and finally free of his chains, the world tour was more for his own mental benefit than the starving young man’s. Crawly had been staring at either Dagon or a desk for almost thirty years and he had begun to miss the variety of sights and sounds that the mortal plane had to offer. 

He bombarded Christ with them all, and found him to be somewhat overwhelmed, but still firmly on Heaven’s side, by the time they returned to the desert; most likely he would put it all down to a hunger-induced nightmare. Crawly shrugged; he never expected to have much of an effect on first impression. He knew Hell was underestimating Christ’s resolve and power and so, hoping to avoid being chained up again, he hammed up the report to say progress had been made in making Christ sympathetic to their cause, but he would need a little longer to fully complete the mission of converting such a worthy adversary to their side, say another five years or so. He hid out for a week, awaiting an appearance from either Beelzebub or Hastur to drag him back down to that infernal office. On the seventh morning, a note arrived. He wasn’t being summoned back, but he felt queasy nonetheless as he read the order for him to stay put and cause trouble, not so much because they wanted him to focus on Christ, but more so because Aziraphale was back in the area, and Crawly was the only one who had dealt with him before. Evidently, nobody else wanted to risk getting beaten up by archangels so they were more than happy to put Crawly’s neck back on the block.

Trying to ignore the web of thoughts that resurfaced to plague him, he spent his time fueling minor disagreements amongst Christ’s followers and the other townsfolk, causing small accidents and inconveniences. No angels appeared to try and stop him. Slowly, day by day, he started to enjoy himself again. 

It was some time later when, wandering through the town looking for mischief, he rounded a corner to find a hushed crowd, listening to a softly spoken man he recognised as looking a lot less hungry than the last time they had met. His speech finished, he and his group stood, and the crowd began to move towards them. Crawly’s heart rate went into overdrive when he saw the angel.

Aziraphale stood at Christ’s right hand upon the mount, his pearl-white wings glimmering, his hair lit like a halo in the sunlight as he and the Son of God blessed those who came to them. Crawly stayed back, his amber gaze a glower. Aziraphale blessed two children who ran before him, smiling beatifically as he placed his hands on their heads, and a little burst of trapped sunlight showered down around them. The children laughed and ran away down the hill, winding through the bustling crowd of followers, almost running straight into Crawly. Aziraphale watched them go, his smile instantly falling as he spotted the black-clad demon. Crawly smirked as the angel excused himself from Christ’s side and made his way down, quickly blessing those he passed as he went.

“Blessings on you, dear lady,” he blessed a kneeling woman a few feet from Crawly, and she wailed, with happiness or fear it was difficult to tell.

“Perfect,” Crawly snapped, grimacing at the beatific vision of Heavenly perfection before him, “ _Now_ you look natural.”

“Hello,” Aziraphale replied, tucking his wings behind him, “It’s been a while.”

“Hngk,” the demon sneered, rolling his eyes. “You got lumped with babysitting duty then?”

“Not at all,” Aziraphale gave a polite smile. “When Heaven heard that demons had been threatening Christ in the wilderness, they realised they needed the full might of Heaven protecting him.”

“So they sent you?”

Aziraphale ignored this, pausing to bless another child who had run over. As the child skipped away, the angel turned back to Crawly. “Well, I hope you got the commendations you wanted from Hell?”

“Yup. Sure did. That’s where I’ve been all this time – they threw me a big party.”

“For thirty years? How kind of them to keep you busy for so long,” Aziraphale snarked, “We’ve managed to get an awful lot done here without your malign interference.” He glanced back up the hill at Christ and the disciples before looking back at Crawly, “Stick around if you like and watch the blessings. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“Nah, gives me a bad stomach,” Crawly drawled, but remained rooted to the spot. Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes off the angel just yet.

  
  


***

  
  


Aziraphale side-eyed the demon, as if waiting for him to pounce or make another remark. When none came, he made his way back up through the crowd. Obviously he knew Crawly would not have been thrown a party, and it concerned him that he had only just returned to Earth as well. What had they been doing to him all this time? He doubted Crawly had experienced anything like the thirty years he had endured, sorting files and reading company policy; Hell would surely have been far more vindictive than to simply place someone who had failed such a mission on desk duty. He wondered if his note had managed to get through, and whether it had been convincing enough to save Crawly the worst of Hell’s wrath? It had been a foolish thing to try in retrospect, and he had often worried over the years about what would have happened if he had been caught. He had been given a lifeline directly from God Herself and had instantly risked it just to potentially save an enemy who had almost destroyed his entire existence. Why?

As he returned to Jesus’ right hand, Aziraphale found his teeth clenched, an odd tightness in his chest, and was surprised to wipe wetness away from his eyes.

Jesus spotted the motion instantly and, excusing himself from the crowd for a moment, whisked Aziraphale off to the side. He said nothing for a few minutes, simply keeping a steady hand on the angel’s shaking back as he trembled and tried to stop the tears.

“Blessed are you who are weeping,” Jesus said softly, a small smile on his face, “In due time, you will be laughing.”

Aziraphale let out an involuntary huffed laugh at this. Jesus rubbed his back. “See?” he smiled, but a look of concern still lay over his features. “What’s the matter, Aziraphale? Aren’t you happy?”

“Happy?” Aziraphale scoffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. His eyes drifted back to Crawly and his mouth wobbled again as all the memories he had been pushing down resurfaced.

“Who is that?” Jesus asked, knowing very well what this angular creature was.

“I don’t know him very well,” Aziraphale muttered, “Except that he despises me. And you. And all of us.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he blames Heaven for everything that’s wrong with me.”

“Is that so?” Jesus smirked, “I’d like to have a word with him about that.”

“You’d be wasting your time,” Aziraphale said, setting his face and fixing his hair.

“What’s his name?” Jesus asked, watching the figure wrapped in black, the only still person in the crowd before them.

“Crawly.”

“Hmm,” Jesus smiled, his eyebrows coming together in a pensive frown, “It doesn’t suit him.”

“You didn’t see him slithering about in Eden,” Aziraphale replied drily.

“Be kind!” Jesus chuckled.

“No, really, he was the snake, you know. Orchestrator of the original sin. And many more since I’m sure. He doesn’t deserve my kindness. Or yours.” Aziraphale forced a small smile, straightening his robe. Jesus smiled back before looking towards the demon, an odd look of recognition on his face. He gave a small nod of acknowledgement, and the demon smirked and waved back.

“Do you know him?” Aziraphale asked, seething as he saw the apparent familiarity between them. So Crawly thought he could get to Heaven now through Christ? Nothing had changed then. Despite whatever he had been through, that was his only interest - whatever rewards he could gain from winning. _Well, let him try,_ Aziraphale thought, _after all he did an excellent job leading me along like a fool. Let him try with the Son of God himself. It will be worth every ounce of retribution he suffers._

A hand on his arm brought him back to the present, with Jesus watching his face as he felt his darkened expression begin to lighten under that Divine touch. “Love your enemies, Aziraphale,” Jesus said as he met his eyes, and Aziraphale felt uncomfortably known by that dark, omniscient gaze, “And pray for those who persecute.” He kissed Aziraphale’s damp cheek, and returned to the waiting followers. 

Aziraphale turned back to the crowd and caught Crawly’s eye before the demon turned away and disappeared around the corner. He shook his head. That demon would have to do an awful lot of _real_ good deeds before Aziraphale could ever like him again, and frankly would have to move Heaven and Earth for him before Aziraphale could ever even consider _loving_ him; and the chances of that happening were practically zero.


	12. Love Triumphant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two millennia later, after the events of the almost-Apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale discuss their long relationship over cake and champagne at the Ritz.

_2019\. The Ritz._

Soft piano music filled the dining room as the waitress brought the second round of desserts to the table, and Aziraphale sneakily blessed her as she walked away.

“She just brings them over, you know, angel. She didn’t bake them herself.”

“Oh I know but I’ve already blessed the chef here and she’s been so patient with us.”

“We saved the world, angel, we have the right to be a little demanding,” Crowley argued as he opened yet another bottle of the Ritz’s best champagne, the type usually only saved for celebrities or royalty. 

“Hmm,” Aziraphale sipped his drink as he eyed up the selection before him, “I suppose you have a point, though really I’m not entirely sure how much of what happened yesterday we can claim as our own successes.” He paused, looking at his right hand and looking back over at the waitress. “I can still do miracles and blessings it seems?”

“Seems that way,” Crowley nodded.

“I half expected to be stripped of them by now,” Aziraphale frowned, turning his hand over.

“I think I gave them a good enough scare that they’ll leave you alone for a millennia or so. They weren’t sure what you were anymore.”

“Yes,” Aziraphale smiled, laughing a little, “They thought you had gone ‘native’.”

“What the Heaven does that mean?” Crowley laughed.

“Not the foggiest, dear boy. Perhaps that we’ve been here too long and no longer count amongst the ethereal and occult circles.” Aziraphale shook his head, “To my mind, I think we may have affected each other over the years. We seem to have both been brought closer to the middle – gravitated towards each other, if you will.”

“Like binary stars,” Crowley offered.

Aziraphale nodded, and then began to laugh to himself.

“What?” 

“Oh, just all this talk of affecting each other - me pulling you up and you _dragging me down_ ,” he said dramatically, chuckling, “Well, it reminded me of that insane plan of yours all those centuries ago to try to make me fall,” Aziraphale continued to snicker as Crowley visibly bristled, “Around when Christ was born, wasn’t it? That was your plan? Or was it what Beelzebub said, about you trying to infiltrate Heaven alone?”

Crowley audibly choked, turning white and spluttering as he croaked out, “You heard about that?”

Aziraphale nodded, sipping his drink with a smile, “Oh, yes. Quite ambitious plans, I must say. I’m not sure how you thought either plan would work out in your favour, I did wonder for many years how you came up with such outrageous ideas in the first place.”

“That wasn’t - I only made up that plan about Heaven to get them off my back! Of course I wasn’t going to - ” Crowley made another incomprehensible noise and sat up a little in his slouch, reaching for his drink with a trembling hand, thinking better of it, and shoving the shaking appendage into his pocket. “Listen, angel – Aziraphale, I didn’t, back then, I mean once we got to know each other on the road and I got to know you, I never really intended to make you – you know, um...fall...”

Aziraphale gave him a look out of the corner of his eye that Crowley knew all too well and squirmed under.

“Welllll,” he acquiesced, “maybe for a moment but it was strictly work-related and MY POINT IS…”

“The point,” Aziraphale continued for him, diligently moving one plate away and pulling another slice of cake towards himself, “is that I forgave you some time ago, dear boy. Do you really think I would be here if I hadn’t? Oh, I was beyond furious at the time, and embarrassed too. That day when Jesus had delivered a sermon and you showed up, I often wondered why I hadn’t simply brought the wrath of God’s own fury down upon you there and then. I think perhaps because I realised it was less God’s fury and more my own. And with time I realised that we hardly knew each other back then - and I admit it would have been an astounding achievement for a young, rankless demon to convert a Principality with such an outstanding military record. I’d have been quite the feather in your cap; that’s all I was for you at that time. I understand now, really I do.” 

Crowley was lost for words, his mouth agape as his brain played catch up. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, for goodness sake, don’t look at me like that.” He reached over and took Crowley’s hand in his, resting them together on top of the table before continuing, “We’ve been through far too much since then to let it ruin our relationship now. You’ve spent years _more_ than making up for it - putting yourself at risk, performing miracles and looking out for me. You literally suspended _time_ yesterday to help save the world just so we could carry on doing this.” He gestured at their drinks and food. “I suspect, really, we’ve been ‘on our own side’ for rather a while now – oh, we said that back then too, didn’t we? ‘On our own side’. Funny how things come back around, isn’t it?”

Crowley took a shaky breath in as he reconciled all the feelings flooding his chest. Staring firmly at the table, he muttered, “I didn’t see you as _just_ a feather in my cap back then, you know.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but squeezed his hand before letting go to pick his fork up. As he ecstatically tucked into the cake, Crowley felt almost two thousand years’ worth of guilt lift from his chest. Some of the serpentine bow of his spine relaxed and he sat up a little straighter. 

“I was thinking,” Aziraphale began, scooping up another forkful of cake, “that I might invite you to stay at the bookshop tonight. Return the favour of your generous hospitality last night.”

“Eh,” Crowley shrugged the compliment off, “You had nowhere else to go.”

“No, but you didn’t have to accommodate me, and you did.”

Crowley squirmed a little in his seat, thinking the offer over. He had barely slept last night, uncomfortable on his sofa, with a cocktail of emotions swirling around his mind at thoughts of their impending doom and of possibly losing Aziraphale forever. “In the bookshop?” he grimaced. He missed his comfortable bed and had only slept in the bookshop armchairs a few times, always waking with a sore neck and head.

“It does have a flat upstairs you know. There is a bedroom,” Aziraphale replied.

“Well, only if you have a blanket and a rope, angel,” Crowley joked, “Can’t have my pristine reputation ruined.”

Aziraphale’s ocean-blue eyes fixed Crowley over a forkful of cake, and Crowley swallowed hard under that serious gaze. “I’m sure I can find something suitable, dear boy, though I did wonder if after all these years it was time to let the Walls of Jericho topple...” He slowly placed the cake into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s as he licked the fork clean. Crowley felt himself go bright red from his shoes to his ears. “Do you think you can source a trumpet in the next hour?” the angel asked, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“What did they ask you for?” Tracy asked Shadwell as they stood together outside the bookshop in the twilight.

“A trumpet,” said Shadwell, “I told them I didnae have one, only Witchfinder Major Juniper’s bugle. They said that would fit the purpose.” He shrugged and brandished the tarnished brass instrument at her. 

“They asked me for a blanket,” Tracy lifted the large pink quilt in her arms, “Very odd on a warm night like this if you ask me.”

The door of the bookshop slammed open, illuminating the pavement and the two figures in warm yellow light. Crowley leapt out, a length of rope looped around his arm. He grabbed both items from their startled hands, only remembering to distantly yell his thanks to them after he had shut and locked the shop door.

“How odd...” Tracy mumbled.

“Demons…” muttered Shadwell disdainfully. 

They both looked up to the open lit window upstairs as they heard a raucous fanfare sound out on the old bugle. There was a sound of heavy fabric landing on the floor, before the window slammed shut of its own accord. After a moment, the light went out.  
  


THE END.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S DONE! Thanks Lurlur for reading so much and keeping my spelling and clarity and ideas in check!! And thanks everyone who's stuck with me as I've gradually got this done, I hope you've enjoyed the story! And if you haven't already watched the original movie It Happened One Night, what are you waiting for!? It's a gem! <3


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